Dedicated series
by corneroffandom
Summary: Heath and Wade short stories.
1. Union Jacks

"You cannot be bloody serious," Wade Barrett's heavily accented voice snaps as he takes one look at Heath Slater, Drew McIntyre and Jinder Mahal in their ring gear. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares incredulously at the Union Jacks design spanning their clothes, shaking his head.

"Course we're serious, why wouldn't we be?" Heath demands, more than a little defensively as he looks at himself in a full-length mirror, smirking. "We look damn good, don't we, boys?"

"Eh, I always look good," Drew says, his own accent thicker than normal thanks to the tour they're currently on. Jinder quietly analyzes himself in the same mirror, tilting his head as he adjusts his jacket to rest just so against his shoulders, not wanting to get involved in the argument brewing behind him. "Wouldn't you say so?" he continues to pick, ignoring as Wade snarls at him.

Heath wisely lets it go before approaching Wade, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "Aw, c'mon, Brit, get into the spirit. We're not in England that often, and besides, this is the first time we've seen each other in awhile since your Visa issues. Are you gonna really be grumpy the entire time?"

Wade looks down at him, unimpressed, and Heath rolls his eyes in response.

"Right, I forget. You're always grumpy," he teases him, pinching his side. Wade swats his hand away but doesn't do anything else, seemingly reluctant to move away from the ginger's warmth. "So, honestly. What do you think?"

"I think it's bloody ridiculous," he says, unconsciously rubbing the edge of the jacket between his fingers. "But I suppose... if anyone can pull it off, it'd be you. Hopefully no one attacks you on the street over it."

Heath blinks, pleasantly surprised. "You always know how to charm a guy, Brit," he smirks, resting his hand atop Wade's and stopping his repetitive movements. "Everything'll be fine. Hell, we might even find some success in 'em if the crowd gets behind us enough."

If Wade looked uncertain before, he's downright disbelieving right now. "Right, of course," he bites out, realizing what he's doing and moving his fingers away from the jacket. But before he can get too far away, Heath grabs his hand and squeezes it. "Good luck with that."

Heath rolls his eyes and leans in, kissing him quickly before he can escape. "Right. See you after my match, Brit." He turns to look at his bandmates. "Alright, boys, let's get this party started."

As the three of them leave, Wade shakes his head and smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches them leave, humming slightly as he rests his fingers against his lips, the lingering feel of Heath's jacket clashing with the remaining warmth of his lips. He chuckles softly. "Ridiculous Ginger."

His team loses that match and Wade greets them at the gorilla position, wrapping the jacket back around Heath's shoulders and leading him to the locker room, rubbing his shoulders briskly. Heath leans into him and mutters, "So are you gonna say it yet?"

"Say what?"

"I dunno, _I told ya so_, or whatever." He grunts as Wade lets him go long enough to push the door open, his head starting to throb. He enters quietly and sinks down on a bench, digging his fingers into his eyes.

"Maybe next time," he says, pulling over Heath's bag and finding his aspirin, shaking out two. He'd become something of an expert in recognizing the signs whenever Heath gets a headache. "Here, take these." Heath squints an eye open and grabs the pills out of his hand, sighing when a bottle of water follows it, sipping greedily from it as he both rehydrates and downs the medicine. "Now just relax." He sits down next to him and rubs his back soothingly, ignoring Jinder and Drew as they wander around, getting out of their own gear and preparing to leave.

"Thanks," he mutters, leaning into him. "I'll be alright in a minute. Then we can go to the pub, or whatever you want."

"That's fine," Wade responds after a few moments. "I'm rather sick of pubs by now, let's just go to the hotel and you can sleep off this headache. You can pretend to be alright, but I know you're going to be miserable."

"True," he sighs. "Alright, thanks, Brit. That sounds good. Lemme just change really quick."

"Fine." Wade watches with a small, fond smile as the ginger wanders around, switching his wrestling gear for a shirt, jeans and a slightly more subdued denim jacket with sequins here and there, carefully folding the gear so it doesn't wrinkle up in the bag before the next event on Wednesday. "Ready to go?"

"Yep. Let's go." He leans over to grab his bag, but Wade's already there, dragging it over his shoulder, Heath blinking in surprise when it disappears from his sight. "Oh, Brit, you don't hafta-"

"Already done, Ginger. Now come on, let's get you back to the room so you can rest." His grip on the bag is sure and Heath sighs, not wanting to fight with him over this too. "Come." Wade's free hand is warm through Heath's shirt as he follows him out of the building and to their car, relieved to let Wade take over for a little bit.

Wade thinks Heath and the other goofs would take Tuesday off, relax, but no, they're out there, partying in their gear, and he tags along, just to ensure that the three don't get themselves killed, but unbelievably enough, the majority of the people they come across are more amused than annoyed by them, though there are a fair few who merely look confused, which is a standard reaction for 3MB. He sits at the bar and tries to pretend like he doesn't know them, which is hard to manage when Heath comes over every few minutes and tries to get him to join them. He hadn't realized the place had a karaoke machine. "Oy," he grouses, trying to drown himself in his pint. "No, Slater, bloody hell, I'm not joining you!" he reiterates for the millionth time, careful not to move, give Heath any kind of momentum in dragging him off of his barstool.

"Party pooper," he chides him playfully, nudging against him. "Fine, then. I'll try to find a good song to dedicate to you then."

Wade groans. "You _really _don't have-" But Heath's already gone. Wade sighs and shakes his head, smirking mirthlessly as a song begins to play behind him, the Brit quickly downing the rest of his drink as a few people down the bar turn to look on in horrified amazement at what's going on at the karaoke machine. "Bloody hell." But, once the song is done and Heath has returned, even Wade can't deny that the bright grin on his face almost makes it all worth it, the ginger settling in close to him and snagging his beer, downing it. "Hey," he protests half-heartedly, closing his eyes when Heath grabs him and kisses him, the taste of beer and _Heath _shutting him up sufficiently. "Bloody git," he smirks.

"Yeah but I'm your bloody git," Heath volleys back, nuzzling against him. He's clearly already a little more than tipsy and Wade shakes his head fondly, dragging him off of the stool and outside to sober up a little bit before returning to the hotel.

Wendesday comes and goes, 3MB actually managing something that Wade needs to rewatch a couple of times to believe. They win, and it's an ecstatic Heath that bounds into his arms afterwards, the cool feel of his gear pressing against Wade's chest as he rubs Heath's back. "That felt great," he mutters into his shoulder.

"I bet it did," Wade responds, pulling away to look at the slightly flushed look on his face. He smiles, leaning back in when Heath squeezes him tighter. "I suppose that gear is good luck for you after all."

"See, I knew you'd start to like it-"

"But it's still bloody awful," he quickly finishes his thought, biting back laughter when Heath looks annoyed. Leaning in, he kisses away the ginger's protests and his own amusement, sighing against his lips and waiting patiently until Heath finally gives in and kisses him back, brushing his fingers through Wade's dark hair. "I suppose I love you despite that, though," he says, tugging on the collar of Heath's jacket.

"And I love you too, despite your opinions on what I wear." Heath smirks up at him as Wade rolls his eyes.

Thursday is the quiet day that Wade had been hoping Tuesday would be, the two of them laying in bed while watching TV, eating roomservice. Wade is idly running his fingers through Heath's hair, listening as he talks out ideas running through his mind about future gear ideas, especially for Nashville, something about rhinestones and cowboys or... Wade shrugs, not sure what exactly Heath is mumbling about, pressing a kiss against his hair. "Sounds about right," he says, distracted as Heath chuckles, his warm breath tickling against Wade's arm. "Hopefully I can be there to see this ridiculousness."

Heath grimaces, lightly scratching at Wade's skin as he sits up to stare at him. "I would like that, yeah. Is it just me or do these Visa issues take longer each time?" He sighs and leans in, kissing him on the lips.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Wade mumbles, holding him close. "But I always come back, yeah?"

"Yeah, you do, which is good, 'cause otherwise I'd never forgive ya." And although Heath sounds playful, there's a tinge of seriousness in his eyes that causes the Brit to make a face, stroking his fingers against the edges of his sideburns.

"Well, we can't have that." Wade smiles at him, shaking his head.

"No we can't," Heath mumbles, resting back against Wade's chest. "You won't like me when I'm angry." The older man's laughter rumbling against Heath makes him laugh as well, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I'm trying to be serious."

"And it's always bloody hilarious when you do," Wade teases him.

"Why does everyone _say_ that? I can be tough when I want to be." This only makes Barrett laugh harder and Heath sits up, frustrated, staring down at him. "Stop laughing, or I swear to God, Brit-"

"Swear to God, what, Ginger?" Wade demands, tugging him back down to kiss him again as Heath settles against him more comfortably, Wade swallowing his soft sigh. "I thought so."

"Aw, shut up." Heath rolls his eyes as Wade laughs, his kisses trailing down to his chin due to it. "Pfft, jerk." Heath tries to get up and leave but Wade moves faster and grabs him, holding him closer.

"Where exactly do you think you're going?" he asks, trailing his hands along Heath's back. "We still have hours ahead of us with nothing to do, so you are staying right here to keep me company."

"Oh, am I now?" Heath sneers, leaning into him. "Well, I suppose if I must..." He traces circles against Wade's flesh as he settles in against him again, finally allowing himself to get lost in Wade's touch and kiss.

But Friday goes badly again, Heath's happiness fading away as quickly as it'd come when 3MB lose a six-man match on Smackdown. Worse than that, however, their jackets are stolen by PrimeTime Players and R-Truth. Wade watches with a grim look on his face, sighing as 3MB struggle backstage, Heath's head lowered as Drew and Jinder walk on either side of him. "Dammit," he breathes, leaning against Wade's chest as soon as he walks up to him.

"It's alright," he mumbles, realizing abruptly how wrong the gear does look without the jacket. "We'll fix this, we'll get your jackets back."

"I thought you'd have been happy to see them gone," Heath responds lowly, barely opening his eyes as Wade leads him back to the locker room once more. "You hated 'em."

Wade doesn't respond for a long moment, waiting until they're safely inside the locker room, Heath settled down on a bench, running his fingers through his hair, when Wade kneels down in front of him, resting a hand on his knees and critically examining the design on the tights between his fingers. "I mocked it at first, true, but somewhere along the way, I suppose between how happy it made you, and how much it suited you... it isn't that terrible. Ridiculous, yes, but terrible, no."

"You always know how to make a guy feel good," Heath mumbles, smiling vaguely. He knows that, for Wade, that's as close as he'll ever get to say that he'd changed his mind on something, anything. "I knew you'd grow to like 'em, Brit." Barrett rolls his eyes skyward as Heath grips his face and pulls him closer, kissing him. "So, about finding those jackets... I'd like to at least have 'em back before the next European tour..."

"Oh, bollocks, are you really going to do this every time you're here?" he asks, staring into Heath's mischevious eyes and barely able to find any illwill towards this idea as Heath nods. "Bloody hell," he grouses with absolutely no malice held in the words.

"You said yourself, I look _good_ in 'em, so why not?" Heath's grin is wide and bright as the sun, and it's hard for Wade not to smile in return as he shakes his head in exasperation, leaning in to kiss him to maintain control over his words and expressions.

"Using my words against me, hmph," he sighs, pulling away. "Get some street clothes on, we'll start looking for your jackets so I don't have to listen to you complaining about this all night. We don't have that much time left in Europe, after all."

Heath looks a little sad at this, rubbing circles against Wade's knuckles. "Yeah... I hope your Visa issues are wrapped up soon."

Wade nods. "Soon, Ginger. But let's not think about it, make the most of the time we do have."

He grins again, though it looks a little forced. "Yeah, sounds good to me, Brit."

As he moves away to get ready so they can start the search, Wade leans back against the wall and watches him wander around collecting things. "Mm hmm, sounds good to me too," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest to wait, his lips twitching upwards into a small smile.


	2. Collection Fee

The Rhinestone Cowboy gear looks incomplete without the obnoxious hat and sunglasses. It's the first thought Wade Barrett has as he sits down next to Heath Slater and stares out at the Nashville buildings towering over them quietly, able to see Heath's pout even without looking directly at him. "Well. I suppose this is what you get with constantly creating new gear, hm?"

Heath says nothing for a long moment, finally straightening up. "Don't try blamin' it gettin' stolen on me, Brit. It's not my fault everyone around here are no good thieves. First the Union Jacks jackets and now these..."

Wade swallows, realizing then that Heath's quickly losing the ability to dust things off and move on no matter what, wondering how long he's missed this fact, how badly it's gotten for him. He sighs and carefully rests his hand on Heath's shoulder, an apology lurking within his unwavering grip. "Come on, Heath, let's get off of this rooftop, we'll go back to our room and you can rest for awhile."

"I don't wanna," he sighs, but he sounds more morose than angry now, which in Wade's mind is a step in the right direction. An angry Heath is an uncontrollable Heath but a sad Heath, well, that he can work with. Tease and prod him until he cheers up, the fire returning to his eyes while they exchange insults and put-downs, meaning not a word of it. "You're not gonna cheer me up so don't bother," he mumbles as Wade draws him closer, lazily drifting his hand over Heath's shoulder, draping it across to his hip.

"You're not a bother," he whispers, nuzzling into him. "A bit dense, but not a bother." This doesn't bring about any sort of reaction and Wade grimaces, knowing that this means he'll need to try harder to make him at least smile, convince him to leave the hotel roof. "Come on, Ginger, for God's sake. I know this is Nashville, but it's November and it's chilly. Do you really want a cold on top of everything else?"

"Well, it would be an interesting experiment, I guess. See if someone would run by and steal my kleenexes and cough medicine." He grimaces and looks away.

"You think I would honestly let any fool even attempt that? And risk spreading more germs to make the rest of us ill?" Wade's eyes gleam when Heath scoffs, smiling faintly. "I would gladly elbow anyone in the face who tries it."

"If only you could be around to do that every time someone runs off with my stuff," Heath says lowly. Wade pauses in his attempt to verbally distract the ginger, stroking his fingers under his bedazzled jacket. The ginger shivers before peeking up at him, his eyes a little brighter than they were when Wade first settled in behind him. "Fine," he grumbles, shrugging off his touch and standing. "Let's get inside, before you start complaining about the cold again, Brit. I know how much Florida has spoiled you after all of those years in England." He reaches a hand out and pulls Wade to his feet, ignoring his eye-rolls and huffs. Keeping ahold of his arm, he rests it around his shoulders, the two of them walking side by side inside, to their hotel room.

Wade unlocks the door and lets Heath go inside first, reaching in to flick on the lights while delaying his own entry into the room, blue eyes locked on him as Heath quietly hangs his jacket on a nearby coat hook, not wanting to look at it again tonight. He watches from the doorway, lips twitching up into a smile as the ginger freezes, staring at the bed with a blank look on his face. "What is it, Ginger?" he asks, finally entering and shutting the door behind him, the loud click of the lock finally waking Heath up.

"My stuff is here," he mutters, turning to look at Wade with a frown. "It... it's my hat and sunglasses. But, but how?"

Wade shakes his head, walking up to him and looking over at it as well, an almost proud smirk on his face. "Well, I wasn't prepared the last time, but since I finally fixed my Visa issues and I was here, I thought I might as well make good use of my free time and keep an eye on things for you. It wasn't that hard to be in the right place at the right time. Xavier didn't make it far with your things..." He puts the cowboy hat on Heath's head, stepping back to look at him curiously. "Yes, this looks better, I suppose. Are you happier now?"

Heath blinks up at him before snagging the sunglasses from the bed, putting them on as well before turning to look at himself in the mirror. "Aw, yeah, baby, the rhinestone cowboy is back." He smirks and tips his hat, staring at himself before turning his gaze onto Wade's reflection. "Thanks, Brit. What would I do without you?"

"Spend a lot of chilly winter nights pouting on rooftops, I suppose." Heath rolls his eyes as Wade smirks and inches up behind him, resting the jacket back over his shoulders. "There, you have the full effect now." He waits as Heath shrugs back into it, his dark eyes gleaming, before gripping his jaw and tilting his head up to meet him halfway with a kiss.


	3. News

It had started on the JBL and Cole show, this Bad News Barrett thing. Heath Slater hadn't thought much of it, found it kind of funny. Even when it had made it on TV and Wade had a podium and a gavel, his thick accent breaking through any silence and forcing everyone to listen. But that all comes to an abrupt end one morning. Heath's sprawled out in bed, fast asleep and comfortable under the warm sun pouring in through their curtains when Boodah whines and the bed shifts under him, Wade's beard scraping against his face as he presses a kiss to Heath's lips, waking him up. "Wha-?"

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news," Wade mutters into his ear, Heath's lips parting in confusion. "If you don't get out of this bed in the next five minutes, you're going to miss your flight and probably never get booked again, which will cause the inevitable break up of 3MB, and-."

Heath groans and squirms out from under the Brit, huffing. "Get- what the hell, man, you're going to do the bad news shtick on me now?" He rolls his eyes and shakes his hair out in agitation before storming off to the bathroom to get ready for his flight, eyebrows furrowing when he catches a glimpse of the clock and realizes that Wade's right. "Dammit..."

A couple of days pass and he thinks that it was a one time thing, but they're on the beach, Heath tanning with music pounding in his ears from the earbuds attached to his iPod, when a shadow drops over him and the earbuds are abruptly tugged out of his ears, startling him. He glares up at Wade, raising both eyebrows when he kneels down next to him. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news..." Heath collapses back against the sand, growling, when Wade continues to talk. "Boodah has a splinter in his paw-"

Heath's eyes shoot open and he pushes past Wade, rushing to check on his dog. "You couldn't just tell me that the regular way?" he grumbles, gently rubbing the pads of his fingers against Boodah's foot, finding it and carefully extracting it with Wade's help in holding the dog down.

"This _is_ the regular way now, Ginger," he says, shrugging. Heath looks up with an exasperated stare but quickly turns his attention back to Boodah, rubbing his side once it's gone. "There you go, boy." They leave the beach shortly afterwards so Boodah can rest at home, his paw still a little sensitive, and Wade doesn't mention any other bad news for the rest of the night to Heath's relief.

But it's like a pesky thorn that won't quite go away. Heath's sitting in the living room, reading through 3MB's schedule for the next ten days when Wade joins him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him closer. Heath snuggles into his warmth, still focused on the paper, when Wade clears his throat. "I've got some good news-"

Heath closes his eyes and drops the papers onto his lap, tensing in Wade's arms. "Brit, I swear to God-"

"I'm going to have my first match back this Monday." Heath's protests die away as he examines Wade, his lips twisting thoughtfully. A competing Wade is a happy Wade, and a happy Wade means an easier time of it for everyone within five miles. "Have anything to say about that, hm?"

Heath smirks and drops his arms over his shoulders, staring at him. "Actually, yes. Congratulations, Brit. I'm happy for you. If anyone deserves it, it's definitely you." Wade leans closer and kisses him. "Hopefully you won't get stuck wrestling a bull any time soon." He rolls his eyes when Wade starts laughing, brushing the hair out of Heath's face. "Jerk."

"Now what kind of congratulations is that, calling me names?" He smirks, tapping Heath's lips.

"The exact same kinda congratulations you'd give me, if roles were reversed." He pinches Wade's side and chuckles as the Brit rolls his eyes, unable to argue with that.

A few days later, they're on an airplane, waiting for take off, when Wade leans in close to Heath. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Heath's fingers dig into the armrest as he tries to ignore Wade, though he knows it's fruitless, even just the slight tease of his breath ghosting against Heath's sideburns enough to make him react. "What?" he finally hisses, staring straight ahead.

"The flight attendants are running low on peanuts, so no snacks for you."

Heath sits forward and slams his forehead against the seat in front of him, releasing a loud groan as Wade laughs behind him. "I hate you."

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news," he all but singsongs this time. "I know you're lying."

"I swear to God, Brit, I'm gonna staple your mouth shut if you don't stop it!" he hisses, turning to glare at the other man. But he falters in his anger when he takes in the happiness in Wade's eyes as he laughs at Heath's exasperation, unable to continue being grumpy when Wade looks like _that,_ it being all too rare. "Idiot..."

The next time Wade throws some bad news his way, Heath is only truly half as annoyed as he pretends to be, fighting to hide his smile while Barrett looks utterly pleased with himself.


	4. Choice

Time has passed, a fair amount of it, actually, since Heath had decided to go home, take some time to himself following Drew's unwanted advances. Wade has returned to WWE, this leaving Heath with no one but Boodah to spend time with, and he doesn't mind it, although he misses Wade whenever he's on the road, but it's nice to have a chance at relaxing and not having to rush all over to this event and that. Besides, he hopes that the time will also give Drew a chance to get himself in order, because Heath really doesn't want to give up on 3MB, not after all of the time they'd spent together.

But he grows restless easily, missing the road, and his friends, traveling with Wade... By New Years, he's made his decision, shifting over to press against Wade's side as he lays in the sand, enjoying the warm Floridian sun. Sunglasses block his eyes from view so Heath can't tell if he's watching, but it doesn't matter, his kiss enough to make the Brit stir, an arm wrapping around his midsection and holding him close. "Ginger."

"Brit," he responds, lips twitching up into a smirk as he hovers over the dark haired man. He opens his mouth but then hesitates, self-doubts leaving him uncharacteristically mute as he leans in and kisses Wade again, sighing. "Hey, um..." He's not sure which could possibly ruin this day more, the question he wants to ask, or the decision he's made, but finally, he knows he has to come out and say _something_ or Wade will get annoyed and ignore him until he spits out what's really on his mind. "Have you talked to Drew lately?"

This sends Wade's dark eyebrows up as he grips his sunglasses and tilts them down, staring at Heath incredulously. "Why are you asking about him? And why would I bother talking to him?" He tries to forget the particular conversation he and Drew had had as soon as Wade was back on the road, the Brit letting him know in no uncertain terms what exactly he had thought of Drew trying to corner Heath when Wade was stuck in England. No bad news had been needed then, he had stopped short of letting his fists speak for him that night, and Drew seemed to have understood, or at least Wade thinks he had before Jinder had appeared and dragged the Scotsman away. He hadn't seen him since, and Wade hadn't felt the need to tell Heath about that particular conversation. "Have you heard from him?"

Heath blinks, his deep brown eyes wide. "No, of course not, I'd tell you if I had!" He had scrambled that night, and every night since whenever Drew came up in conversation, to convince Wade that nothing was going on with them, but Wade really doesn't need his desperation to prove himself- he had trusted him since Heath had called him the night Drew made his intentions known, so he rests his hand on Heath's and squeezes his fingers, blue eyes intent on Heath's face until the ginger relaxes slightly.

"Breathe, Ginger. I know you would, I'm just not sure why you're asking this now."

Heath sucks in a deep breath before looking down at their fingers. "I was... I'm..." His words still won't come and he looks more and more frustrated, Wade inching closer to him and wrapping his arm around him, trying to encourage him and calm him down all at once. "I want to come back," he finally manages to say. "To the road, to Raw and Smackdown. With you, 'n'... the others... 3MB." He looks worried, breaths coming out in sharp little exhales. "I just don't know if... if... what I'll do if Drew tries again, I don't wanna ruin our friendship, or have to disband 3MB..."

Wade rolls his eyes, tilting Heath's face up to look at him. "Idiot," he says with no malice. "How long have you been pondering this? Since the day you came home?" Heath looks a little sheepish, unable to hide the truth behind Wade's words, and the Brit shakes his head with a sigh. "I think you made it quite clear to McIntyre that night." _And if you didn't, I certainly better have,_ he thinks grimly, his hands curling into a fist which he quickly relaxes before Heath can notice. "As it stands, I'm back on the road now, so you'll be ok, Ginger. Don't worry about it, if you miss competing, then come back. Everything will be fine." He strokes Heath's back, smiling when he leans back into Wade's touch, nodding slowly. "Alright?"

"Yeah, great." He stares out at the waves for a moment before tucking himself into Wade's arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling. "Thanks, Brit. I'll let WWE higher ups know after the holidays."

Wade nods, resting a hand on Heath's sun-kissed back, pressing his forehead against Heath's and searching his eyes. "I'm glad you're coming back... though I know you deserved this time off, the road's bloody boring without your ridiculousness."

"Thanks, Brit. You always know how to charm a guy." But Heath clearly doesn't mind, his eyes gleaming as he smirks up at the older man, cupping his jaw and kissing him. "Maybe you'll do my return introduction? Tell people you have some good news?"

Wade rolls his eyes, nudging Heath. "No," he refuses, his teeth gleaming in the sun as he grins down at the pouting ginger. "I think I'll keep that particular good news to myself..." Heath's responding huff is swallowed away as Wade leans into him, digging his nails into the sand and pressing an open mouthed kiss against his parted lips, smirking when Heath eagerly responds in kind.


	5. Double Duty

It's Main Event and Wade Barrett had arrived on his podium, dispersing his Bad News, when first Ryback comes out to march around the ring, then 3MB for their match. He watches closely, stuck up there for now, as Heath and the other two make their way past the odd man, his teeth gritting as he considers what Ryback may have in mind when it comes to his former Nexus teammate. Thankfully, nothing comes of it and they go their individual ways, Wade considering getting down after the Primetime Players head to the ring, but he ultimately stays, settling in on top of the podium so he can have a clear view of the match. He does enjoy watching Heath compete, even if it regularly ends in disappointment for the ginger, so it's not that terrible. In fact, he thinks he has the best seat in the house, able to either watch from the ring or from the titantron itself with nothing hindering his view.

The match only lasts a few minutes, 3MB eating another loss despite it being 2 on 3... Wade sighs, grimacing as Heath and his bandmates demand Maddox restart the match... just to get thrown into a six man match against Los Matadores and El Torito. Of course, this ends in another loss but all focus is distracted from that little fact when Ryback returns yet again, marching his way around the ring for the fourth time this evening. Wade takes the opportunity and lowers his podium towards the ground, ignoring the few people who notice as he slips backstage to wait for Heath to regroup and stumble up the ramp himself- preferably after Ryback's stopped circling the ring like some demented caged animal.

He keeps his back to the curtain as Ryback stomps his way through the halls and out of sight, it only taking a few moments before he hears Heath's muffled complaints about losing twice. His smirk fades, however, when he turns and finds Heath squinting and holding his head, the telltale signs of a headache that are only too obvious, after all of the years they've spent together. He sighs and approaches, resting a hand on Heath's arm and offering a half-smile when the ginger looks up at him. "Don't say anythin'," he warns, leaning into Wade anyway as the Brit helps him to the locker room. "Wasn't my fault, damn Maddox havin' it out for us'n'all..."

Drew and Jinder aren't that far away, talking lowly amongst themselves as Wade pushes the door open and obligingly holds it for all three of them, despite his urge to just slam it shut after letting Heath inside, knowing that noise and their potential complaints is the last thing Heath needs right now. He quietly wanders around, finding tylonel and a bottle of water, handing both over to Heath and watching as he swallows it down desperately, then presses the cool bottle against his flushed skin as he tries to calm down. "I wasn't going to," he says, though it had been tempting at first to tease Heath for losing back to back. Drew goes to shower, Jinder goes to get more water, and this leaves Wade and Heath alone, which is all Wade had wanted to begin with. "Come here," he says, clapping his hand against the bench next to him.

Heath grunts and squints at him, shaking his head, but Wade stares at him, unbending, so finally he stands and settles in next to him, grunting slightly when Wade pushes him to sit at an angle on the bench, then pulls him back until his head rests on Wade's shoulder. "What're you doin'?" he grumbles, then sighs as Wade's warm fingers press against his forehead, lightly massaging around his temples and along his eyebrows. "Brit..."

"Be quiet and relax into it," he chides him lowly. "You'll feel better." His other hand goes lower, kneading along Heath's shoulders and down to his spine, leaving him a limp mess barely conscious of what's going on around him within minutes. Wade's lips twitch up into a pleased smirk as Heath curls in closer to him and groans, the Brit's fingers pressing against a slow forming bruise. He skitters past it, working his magic on sore muscles and tense flesh until he feels soft breaths against his cheek and pulls away to look down. Despite the headache, and Heath's visible displeasure with losing both matches, he's now laying against Wade, fast asleep and peaceful.

It won't last for long, because they have to leave the arena soon, but Wade's glad to see he's getting _some _sort of rest nonetheless, his smirk turning into a faint smile.


	6. Fork in the Road

_From: WWE Headquarters_

_To: Heath Slater_

This email is to inform you that your current contract is running out. We wish to discuss the terms of a new agreement with you, please call us at your earliest convenience.

Dark brown eyes skim the information below, the phone numbers and other words blurring before his eyes before he presses the button to darken the screen almost violently. He's still staring at the blank device when he feels eyes on him, glancing up to find Wade staring at him from across the room, his brows furrowed. "What are you doing, Ginger?"

"Nothin'," he says, not wanting to talk to Wade about this. His contract had been running out for awhile now, he'd known about it, and WWE's lack of communication involving it had left him on edge for the last few weeks. He had almost convinced himself that not being renewed would be alright, that he'd still live with Wade and Boodah and they'd see each other when their schedules dictated... but now that he knows there _is _interest on their side, he's not sure about himself. Losing again and again, bashing his head against the same brick wall and accomplishing nothing new, it eats at him more than he reveals. He wants more for himself, more for his band. Although he loves WWE, had gained something of a home here, he can't help but feel like he'd gone as far as he could go...

Even so, there are other things to consider- leaving Drew and Jinder behind, because he knows they've already signed fresh contracts, and of course... Wade himself. He stares at the Brit for a moment, frowning, before getting to his feet and settling the phone down on his chair. He joins Wade on the couch and presses his face into his neck, relieved to hide from the world for awhile as Wade gently brushes his fingers through his hair. "What's going on, Ginger? You've been acting weirder than normal for awhile now... Talk to me."

"WWE just emailed me about renewin' my contract," he admits, closing his eyes as Wade's fingers still against his scalp.

"Well, that's a good thing, yes?" But despite the steady motion of his fingers, it's clear that Wade's uncertain about what Heath's answer will be. "Heath?"

"I dunno," he admits softly, wrapping an arm loosely around Wade's midsection and snuggling closer to him. "I'm wonderin' if I've hit the glass ceilin' in the company, at least as high as I'm gonna go in it. I ain't won any titles in so long, much less had a clear cut opportunity at 'em... I almost don't remember what it's like." He doesn't sound bitter, especially when he looks over at Wade's title gleaming nearby, just wistful and it makes Wade feel even worse than jealousy might've.

Closing his eyes, he presses a vague kiss to Heath's forehead and swallows. "Whatever you choose to do, Ginger, I'll support you," he mumbles into Heath's hair, smiling slightly when Heath squeezes him tighter in thanks. Trying to picture WWE without Heath is a sobering prospect, but he can't blame the other man for being unhappy and considering other options. Wade would just deal, take it a day at a time if he does leave, and content himself with the knowledge that Heath perhaps would be better off forging his own path instead of stuck with the few options he has in WWE.

With all of these thoughts rattling around in his mind the next few days, Wade makes sure not to push Heath to make a decision, nor to attempt to sway him, or do anything that could make the situation worse. He's walking by the bedroom a few days later when he hears Heath on the phone and he hesitates, peeking inside for a moment. Heath is tapping a pencil against a shief of papers that could only be a contract, discussing terms, and Wade watches closely as Heath nods, his lips pursed. "Alright, we gotta deal," he says with a small smile. "Pleasure doin' business with you. I'll sign 'em and send 'em in to you soon." He hangs up the phone and continues reading the fine print before calling out, "I'm stayin', in case you were wonderin', Brit."

Wade releases a soft breath, not even bothering to wonder how Heath knew he was there, pushing the door open and joining him, leaning down to cup his face and kiss him deeply. "Good," he mumbles once he pulls away, stroking Heath's face and searching his eyes. He sees no doubt in the decision just made and his smile grows.


	7. Bittersweet

Wade's day hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped it would when he woke up that morning. First, Heath, Drew and Jinder had insisted on holding a party in the locker room before Raw because it was their 500th day of being a trio, which had involved a lot of bad singing and ridiculous air guitar and scared off most everyone in the general vicinity, shattering Wade's focus in the meanwhile. Then, once his ears stopped ringing enough for him to go out on his podium and announce more bad news to the general population, Jerry "The King" Lawler had found it prudent to stand up, interrupt and tell Barrett that maybe _he_ wouldn't be here next week.

A pathetic insult, if that's what one would call it, but even so, Wade hadn't been able to shake the words for the rest of the night. Even 3MB's racuous _party_ _of three_ continuing on into the late night hours hadn't distracted him from his heavy thoughts. After all, it had only been a few months earlier that he had been stuck in England, fighting to get his visa renewed so he could return to America. To Heath, and his career. Dark blue eyes track Heath as he laughs and throws chips at Jinder, who looks affronted when he fails at catching them in his mouth each and every time.

Finally 3MB tires themselves out and Heath waves farewell at Drew and Jinder as they leave for their own hotel room, Heath's orange hair cascading against Wade's chest as he lays down next to him on the bed, curling his fingers around the Brit's hand. "That was fun," he mumbles. "Five hundred days... kinda incredible, huh?" Wade tries to think of a response but fails, watching as Heath falls into a doze. "Thanks for bein' patient with us, Brit. 'Ni-night."

Heath crashes hard within moments and Barrett closes his eyes, not wanting to imagine a life where he _is_ "not here next week" but knowing that at some point, it could happen. His visa not renewed, his contract with WWE terminated, anything that would send him back to England and keep him from seeing Heath ever again... He releases a faint breath and sits up, easing Heath back down on the pillows before he stands up and goes to sit at the desk, the lamp shining faintly as he stares at the cherry red wood beneath his fingers. He's pretty sure it's just more deluded mumblings from The King, but still, it had awoke his paranoia.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting there, trapped in these thoughts, when he hears the bed creak and Heath shuffle around, mumbling, "Wade?" Footsteps approach him and sleep-warm arms wrap around him, drawing him against Heath's chest. "What're you doin' over here? Can't sleep?" Uncoordinated, sleepy kisses against his nose and forehead follow and he smiles faintly, unable to resist Heath's charm, especially when he's just awoke and looks so young, his dark brown eyes wide and deep. "You ok?"

Wade hums and draws Heath over, settling him on his lap so he doesn't trip over his own feet- or the wheels of the chair- and kill himself, wrapping his arms loosely around his midsection. "I'm fine, just thinking." Wade sighs as Heath's hands brush up and down his arms, the two of them sitting there quietly for a moment while Wade absorbs Heath's warmth, feeling moderately better already, his worries easing away somewhat.

"Is this because of what King said?" Heath asks abruptly, surprising Wade with how well he knows him, and understands what's eating him despite his best attempt to keep it internalized. "I saw the look on your face, and you were really quiet the rest of the night, just watchin' me and the boys' antics with a similar expression. If I didn't know better, I'da said you looked really kinda sad." He yawns slightly and rests his head back against Wade's shoulder, staring at what of his expression he can see from this angle. "You still do." He continues stroking the older man's arm and smiles. "Y'know if somethin' happened, and you did get sent back to England or somethin', I'd definitely find a way to come see ya. Visa issues ain't held us back before, they wouldn't start now. You know that, right?"

"I suppose," he mumbles, holding Heath a little tighter. "I don't want to think about how it would be, to get deported out of here permanently... I've... started to think of this place as something of a home, even though I do still cherish England... If I had to leave, I suppose I'd rather it be my choice than just because of visa issues... I know you were wondering when, if, I'd ever get it sorted out enough to come back to America this last time. It does seem to take longer each time, and Lawler's comments aren't exactly comforting..."

Heath nods grimly and leans up to kiss Wade again, this time on the side of his neck. "Yeah, but we made it through, like we always do'n'always will. Don't start doubtin' things just 'cause of some old man's random comments. Nothin'll come of it anyway, your visa's fine for another couple'a years." Squirming free of Wade's arms, he gets to his feet and holds his hand out towards the Brit. "Now c'mon, dunno about you but I'd rather get some sleep before Drew'n'Jinder wanna pick up where we left off celebratin' our big milestone and all." Wade's eyes narrow at him and he laughs, shaking his head fondly at him. "Kiddin', kiddin'... I think. Possibly..." He sputters in protest when Wade takes his hand and pulls himself up, just to swat Heath's side as he turns towards the bed. "Hey! Man, what the hell-"

His words drift as Wade cups his face and kisses him, smirking against his lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are soft and gleaming with affection for the infuriating, loyal man before him. "Thank you, Ginger. I don't doubt that if anyone could find a way to infiltrate England, it'd be you."

"Damn straight," Heath sighs, his momentary aggravation fading away as Wade pushes him onto the bed and settles down next to him, pulling him close and hugging him. They're both fast asleep within minutes, King's ridiculous statement now forgotten.


	8. BFFs

They'd just finished filming the JBL and Cole show, Heath standing a few feet away, pointing at a book that he'd been using in his attempt to gain access into the building as Clem Layfield, Wade watching him with a faint smirk before searching the ground for the charms that he'd snatched from Cody and threw away into the twilight. It takes a bit but Heath is now laughing with the security guards, so he has time, running his fingers through the sand where he's sure they'd landed, finally spotting a gleam of light reflecting on something not far away from where he's standing. It's half of the charm, its box laying a few feet away, coming unwrapped with the force of his throw, and he curses vaguely.

He's just collected the first charm, marveling at its small size in his palm, when he hears footsteps crunching towards him. "Whatcha doin' down there, Brit?" Heath wonders, kneeling down to get a closer look at him. "Didn't trip, didcha?"

"No," he's just said when Heath stops short and picks something up from under his boot, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, look'it this, someone lost one'a those Best Friend Forever charms," he comments. "I wonder where the other half is..." He's glacing towards the arena, a troubled look on his overly expressive face. "Should go head back, see if someone's lookin' for it. I can at least put it in Lost'n'Found at the security desk, maybe someone'll come back for it." He's just stood back up, dusting his hands off on his jeans, when he holds a hand out to Wade, who is surprised by his finding it so easily where Wade had already spent five minutes looking for it. "Need some help there, Brit?" he offers, wiggling his fingers with a small smile until Wade grips his hand and pulls himself up.

By the time he finds his voice, Heath's already turned back towards the building, determined to take the charm to security so its owner could find it. "Wait, wait," he calls out, jogging towards him to stop him in time. "Heath-"

"Yeah, Brit?" he wonders, smiling as Wade catches up with him. "Wanna make sure I get this charm into lost'n'found alright?" He's quieted when Wade holds his other hand up and reveals the other half to him, Heath's jaw dropping. "Hey, you found the other half! Geez, who would throw both halves of these into the dirt like that?" He's just reached out for the other part of the charm when Wade moves his hand away, shaking his head. "Brit?"

"It's not... They're mine," he explains. "It was a prop for the show. Like your book," he says with a vague chuckle, poking the cover that's just visible in Heath's back pocket.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so?" he wonders, moving to hand his half back to Wade.

"Because I was amazed you found your half so easily," he says, keeping his eyes on the bright lights of the building before them.

"My half? Wha- I've never had one of these," Heath says, not quite understanding what Wade means. He examines the charm, trying to remember if perhaps he's wrong, or if his memory is failing him. "No one's ever given me one, so-"

"Well, now someone is," Wade mutters, gripping Heath's hand and curling his fingers around it. "There you go. Keep it safe."

Heath's eyes are shining in the soft lights as he smiles at Wade, tilting his head curiously and nearly tipping the cowboy hat off. "Ya mean we're BFFs, Brit?"

Readjusting his hat, Wade coughs before nodding. "I suppose that is what I'm saying, Ginger." He finds the other man's hand in the darkness and tugs him closer, leaning down to stare into his eyes under the brim of his hat. "Though BFFs isn't quite strong enough to describe us, but it'll do, I suppose..." Heath's grin is sharp and bright as Wade bridges the gap and kisses him.

"Thanks, Brit," he whispers.

Later that night, when he competes on Raw, Heath can feel the coolness of the charm against his foot in his wrestling boot, aware that Wade's is wrapped up in his wrist brace so that they're always with them, the thought making it hard not to smile even when he's supposed to be keeping his game face on during his tag match.


	9. Tool

"Brit!" Heath calls from the bathroom, rushing out with an excited look on his face. "Guess what?!"

"What?" Wade sighs, looking up from the wrestling gear that he's trying to prepare for the event a few hours away, unsurprised when Heath all but jumps into his arms. "Ginger, what the bloody hell-"

"Tool! Tool wants to perform a private concert for the members of 3MB!" He releases a rough, slightly manic laugh. "Can you believe it? I've always loved Tool!" He releases a loud whooping sound before running back into the bathroom, making a ridiculous amount of noise for one man as he seemingly tears apart the room, looking for something special to wear for such a thing.

Wade shakes his head and approaches, not wanting to lose out on the deposit should Heath damage something. He watches, perplexed, as Heath tries one shirt on, shakes his head, and moves onto the next. "You look fine," he says when Heath's looking down at his favorite flannel shirt.

"Maybe," he says doubtfully. "But _fine_ isn't enough..." He continues digging through his clothes, still failing to find anything that pleases him. "Dammit," he sighs, giving up and staring down at a blue and white striped shirt. "You think this is the best I've got with me currently?"

"Yes," Wade responds impatiently, never minding watching Heath try on different clothes until the man starts to doubt himself, his appearance, and whatever else. "Maynard James Keenan will be fine with it, and if he's not, they do say he's more than a bit _weird_."

Heath gapes at him for a moment, then laughs, swatting at his arm. "Insulting Maynard, wow," he drawls. "Long as you don't do that to his face... wanna come to the performance? I can sneak ya in, I'm sure."

"A plus one to a private performance?" Wade shakes his head, smirking slightly as he watches Heath examine himself in the mirror again. "I'll pass." As Heath purses his lips at him, the Brit walks up behind him and looks his reflection over, head to toe. "That's always been a good look for you," he offers, trying to ease some of Heath's visible nerves.

"Yeah?" he wonders, frowning at himself for a moment before Wade quietly hands him a hair tie, Heath's eyes brightening as he quickly ties his hair up into a ponytail.

"Of course, would I say it if it wasn't true?" he asks, wrapping his arms around Heath's waist and resting his chin on the shorter man's shoulder, smirking

Heath hums, shrugging slightly. "This is true, you are painfully honest," he mutters, leaning back into Wade's embrace. "Alright, I'll trust you. But if this looks bad in pictures, I'll never forgive you."

"Right," Wade breathes, tilting his head to kiss Heath's neck and feeling as he melts even more against him. "As if that's ever been possible."

"Bad pictures, or my not being able to forgive you?" he breathes, twisting around in Wade's arms to kiss him properly on the lips.

"Either," the Brit tells him, his lips twitching up into a soft smile when Heath's eyes gleam with pleasure.

A few hours later, Wade recoils slightly as a phone is thrust in front of his face, held too close in front of his eyes for him to observe much much than a blur of color. Gripping the wrist holding the phone os frustratingly, he shifts it so he can actually see the screen, a soft laugh coming from his lips as he takes in, 3MB standing with members of Tool, holding guitars and drum sticks, Heath looking almost painfully happy, his fashion crisis clearly forgotten once he'd actually arrived there and the private show had begun. Tugging again on the hand, Wade pulls Heath around until he sits down next to him on the bench, smirking down at him.

"You can say it," Heath says, cycling through a couple of more photos.

"Say what?"

"That you were right. The clothes were fine. And the show was amazin'."

Wade huffs out another laugh and shakes his head, kissing the top of Heath's head. Pulling back to stare into the confused eyes peering up at him, he explains, "Why tell you something you already know? Just as long as you don't doubt my expertise again in the future..."

"Yessir, Lord Barrett," Heath says, only a little mockingly. "Because you're a ginger expert..." He takes a deep breath as Wade's fingers brush down his face, his eyes fluttering. "Ok, ya are," he concedes, leaning up to kiss Wade. "Thanks for helpin' me earlier."

"Any time," Wade murmurs. "Lord Barrett, hm? I like the sounds of it..." Ignoring Heath's muffled complaints, he kisses him into silence, smirking against the other man's lips.


	10. Sharing

Heath blinks groggily the day after the Tool concert, yawning and squirming around under the sheets, enjoying the rasp of soft fabric against his feet. He stares at the clock for a moment before sitting up, suddenly panicked. He's just leapt out of bed, collecting his clothes and making a mad dash for the bathroom when he spots Wade, standing against the wall and staring at him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Brit, what the hell! I'm gonna be late to arrive at the arena for Main Event," he moans, struggling to not trip over various things scattered over the floor. "Why didn't ya wake me up?!"

"Because," he drawls back lazily, pulling away from the wall and walking up to him, cupping his face and stopping his desperate attempt at getting dressed, getting his things together, getting out of the door in one piece. "You're not going to Main Event today, Ginger."

"But 3MB has a match, 'n' I hafta-"

"3MB has nothing," Wade says patiently. "McIntyre and Mahal have a match, _you _are staying with me today." Heath looks equally hilarious and cute, though Wade would never admit such a thing aloud, his mouth opening and closing in confusion as they stare at each other. "Alright?"

"I don't understand-"

"Nothing new there," he says, ignoring Heath's angered huff as he catches his hand and pulls him out of their room and through the halls of the hotel until they reach the elevator, riding it down to the main floor quietly.

Heath's eyes are still dark with confusion as he walks side by side with Wade to a conference room. "Brit, seriously, I don't understand any'o'this," he insists. "Tell me what's goin' on, or-" He falls silent as Wade unlocks the door, pushing him inside as soon as it's opened far enough. "For ffff-" He quiets abruptly, eyes wide when he stares at what's waiting for him. "... Whoa," he mumbles. Instruments are set up around the room, drums and guitars, even a set of bongos. "Brit, what is going on?"

Wade chuckles at the look on his face, standing behind him as he takes it all in. "I understand that you enjoyed Tool last night, but I wondered how you would feel if I introduced a somewhat different style of live music into your life." It clicks with Heath then, kind of hard not to, what with the large _STONE ROSES_ logo on the side of the drums, and he gapes. "When you told me about Tool scheduling a private concert for you all, I decided to pull a few favors and put this together." His hand is warm on Heath's side as he leads him over to a cushy couch, settling down on it and pulling Heath next to him. "I've had to miss out on quite a few Stone Roses concerts over the years, so this seemed even more worthwhile to work out."

Heath still seems floored by all of it, speechless even, and Wade laughs, leaning over to kiss him. _This_ revives him as he gapes at Wade. "I can't believe you did all'a this. It's too much, Wade- prolly cost so much-"

"I said I had some favors to pull," he reminds him, stroking his side as Heath closes his eyes and rests against Wade. "Don't worry about it. Besides, as I said, had to introduce you to some proper music."

"Man, you gotta stop dissing Tool," Heath insists off of a laugh. Wade shakes his head, quieting Heath with another slow, lingering kiss until the band comes out, greeting them before getting into position with their instruments and beginning to play, filling the empty conference room with their music. It's a different style of music for Heath, but he's always been open to all kinds of genres and it's easy to tell when he starts getting into The Stone Roses, his eyes gleaming as he marks the notes against Wade's shirt and mouths the lyrics enthusiastically. He may not have the best voice but he'd always had his own little rhythm and it makes Wade appreciate his love of music... anything that could bring that look of pure happiness on his face is more than worthwhile in Wade's opinion.

Before long, Heath is leaning against Wade's chest, their hands interlaced over Heath's midsection, eyes locked on the band, when Wade leans in during one of his favorite songs- personally selected- and whispers into Heath's ear. "I love you," he whispers, unsure that he'd even been heard until Heath tilts his head and catches Wade in a warm kiss.

"I love you too, Brit," he whispers back between songs, tugging on his fingers lightly. "But I get the feelin' Drew'n'Jinder are gonna kill me for missin' their match tonight."

"Oh well, their loss," he responds, ignoring the not-so-pleased tweet from Drew directed at him already sitting on his phone, waiting to be responded to. "You're happy to be here with me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he sighs, settling back in Wade's arms as the band resumes playing. "I can't believe you put this together for me."

Wade merely smiles, fully aware that he'd do this and _much_ more to make Heath happy.


	11. Big Clem

"... if I find this Big Clem Layfield, it'll make Rhodes shut up about this ridiculous golden boot. I hope," Wade mutters, his hand warm on Heath's side as they rest in bed, Heath's eyes fluttering tiredly. The only thing keeping him awake is Wade's obsessive, insomniac ramblings about the latest happenings in the JBL and Cole show.

Sighing, he leans up and hovers over Wade, dark eyes peering into his face. "If I help ya with this, will you let me sleep? 'N' maybe share some'a the shepherd's pie when you get it?"

Wade is flummoxed but ultimately nods, wondering what exactly Heath thinks he can accomplish that Wade had failed at up to this point. He keeps his curiosity to himself as Heath settles back down against his chest, soft orange hair spreading out over his flesh. "Good night then," he murmurs, feeling a little guilty for keeping him awake as he strokes his fingers through the bright strands.

"G'night," Heath responds, asleep within moments, his soft breaths tickling Wade's skin with each exhale.

Wade wakes up to soft sunshine streaming into the bedroom, shifting and feeling around. The bed is empty, cool, and he sits up with a frown, running his fingers through his hair. Heath is nowhere to be seen and he feels even crankier, momentarily distracted by how intuned he is to Heath's presence, officially not able to sleep if he's not laying next to him. Sighing, he gets out of bed and toes at Heath's boots that are poking out from under the bed, relieved that at least he's still at home. Running a hand through his hair, he wanders into the living room, his eyes barely opened, and isn't all that surprised when Boodah scrambles towards him, his wet nose pressing into Wade's outstretched hand waking him up a little more.

"'Bout time you woke up, Brit!" Heath's voice exclaims from the kitchen, his footsteps- muffled by socks, which means he does plan on leaving soon- pausing in front of Wade as he cups his face and lazily kisses him. "Been up for awhile already. Here's some coffee." He presses a deliciously warm mug into Wade's hand and grips his other, leading him into the kitchen. "Thought some about your problem and I'm pretty sure there's only one way we can get Cody off'a your back about the golden boot nonsense."

Wade sips from the mug, squinting at Heath as he grins brilliantly at him. "Share with the class then," he says, unable to keep the gruffness out of his voice. He can only imagine what Heath's thought of... but as he explains it further, Wade has to admit it sounds like a good idea, even the caffeine buzz from the coffee not diminishing its feasibility as he ponders it. "Alright, what do we need to do to put this into motion?"

Heath sips from his own mug, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "We gotta go shoppin'," he announces, grinning as Wade drops his head against his chest and groans, already regretting agreeing for Heath to help. "It won't be that bad, Brit," he appeases him, reaching over and entangling his fingers with Wade's, tugging at his hand until they're resting, palm to palm, on top of the table. "You'll see."

After a quick breakfast and walking Boodah up and down the beach to get rid of some of his energy- something he'd never really grown out of from when he was a puppy- they drive out to a strip of shops, including a suits store. After helping Heath select a few choices, Wade settles into some plush couches by the changing rooms and stares up at the ceiling as Heath tries them on. None of the first group are quite what they'd been picturing, so they begin to search anew, looking for something sharp and that looks more expensive than it actually is. The British wrestler is already bored by the time Heath ducks into the changing room with the new pile of suits, picking at his lips as he ponders if shepherd's pie and having Cody Rhodes off of his back finally is truly worth all of this, sharply shaking his head in refusal every time Heath comes out with suit after suit on.

"Bloody hell, no-" he's just about to snap on the principle of it all when he stops short, sits up a little straighter. "Wait," he mutters before Heath could duck back into the room, looking dejected. He makes it to his feet and wanders over, a dark look in his eye as he takes it all in. Reaching up, he scrapes Heath's hair back and makes a motion, which causes Heath to press the hairtie that he always keeps around his wrist just in case into his hand. Once he ties it up into a ponytail, he steps back and takes in the whole thing- Heath in a dark suit, his hair held back, and... Wade swallows. He looks good. "There's only one thing missing," he breathes, gripping Heath by the shoulders and turning him around so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Well, well," he says quietly. "Nice'ta meet ya, Clem Layfield."

Heath changes back into his clothes quickly, they pay, and then it's off to one last place. It takes some searching to find a store that has just what they need but eventually they locate the perfect cowboy hat, Wade adjusting it on Heath's head just so. He smirks down at him as Heath peers up at him from under the brim, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Perfect," he hums, leaning in to kiss Heath and only just grabbing the hat before it gets knocked back off.

A few days later, when the next episode of the JBL and Cole show is to be filmed, Heath and Wade are sitting in the backseat of their rental, Wade examining him thoughtfully. Growing impatient, Heath squirms and makes a face at Wade. "Well? Do I look alright or not?" Wade finally moves, smoothing out the dress shirt, adjusting his jacket, re-doing his hair, all kinds of touch ups that leave Heath flustered and a little cranky. "You're worse than a woman," he huffs, swatting Wade's hands away and finally gripping his wrists to still his rushed movements. "C'mon, Brit, just tell me I look good. You know it's true." His grin is blinding and charming all at once and Wade rolls his eyes, giving him another quick once over.

"It has to look perfect," he grouses, finally relaxing in Heath's grip. "But yes, you look good. I just hope it's enough to distract Cody Rhodes..."

"Well, I guess there's nothin' else for it but to get out'a this car and see, huh?" Heath slips his hands down, squeezing Wade's fingers, and smiles up at him. "It'll be ok, you'll see. We'll get that shepherd's pie before you realize it."

Wade sighs, staring at him, and Heath offers him another of those all-encompassing grins that finally melts him. "Fine, let's go." As he follows Heath out of the car, he stares at the arena. "Here we go," he mutters, pausing only long enough to kiss Heath thoroughly then, ignoring Heath's startled squawk, he pulls a paper sack over his head and goes to find Cody.

"...Dammit, Brit, you coulda warned me about this part of it," Heath mutters, his hands curling into fists as he waits for the others to return, only a strip of light seeping in at the bottom of the bag keeping him from being completely blind.


	12. Slater Has Spoken

Heath stares up at the ceiling lights after being pinned by El Torito. It's embarrassing and it sucks and he has to keep his eyes locked on the entrance ramp or the sight of the fans on either side of the titantron, pointing and laughing at him, would cause him to lose it so he walks backstage, his hands clenched at his sides. He arrives backstage and releases a deep breath as everyone looks up at him, the divas giggling and the men smirking. He takes it all in, unable to look away, before walking forward, his hair shielding his face.

"Excuse me, Heath-" Renee Young interrupts, microphone at the ready.

He freezes for a moment, staring at her through the curtain of orange strands of hair, before shaking his head. "Not right now, Renee," he snaps, sounding like he's close to losing it. She wisely backs away and he continues to storm through the halls until-

"Not your night, was it, Heath?" Curtis Axel laughs at him, their usual banter grinding down at him.

Losing to most people had become part of Heath's reality, but a bull... the very thought of it makes him itch, desperate to tear everythign apart and start anew, with a new identity, a new name, whatever's needed to make people forget that he'd just endured all of that humiliation. "SHUT UP, Curtis!" he screams at him, eyes blazing as he glares at him. "Leave me the hell alone!"

Everyone freezes at this, not used to him losing his temper at one of his friends backstage, Wade stepping forward. "Slater-" Heath pauses only for a minute, glaring warningly at Wade, before brushing past him and storming towards the exit. "Heath!" he calls after him, this too ignored. "Bollocks," he grunts, running a hand through his hair before looking around at the others. "Show's over, get back to doing whatever nonsense you all were doing." His accent is thick, authoriative, and he's relieved when they actually listen, the whispers and giggles slowly subsiding as they disappear into locker rooms or catering. As soon as he's alone, Wade closes his eyes and releases a breath. "Dammit, Ginger..."

Rushing through the Bad News segment that he has scheduled for the evening, Wade then ducks into the locker room and collects his bag, then Heath's, before heading for the car. He's halfway there when he realizes that Heath may have taken it, but no, it's still in the parking lot when he arrives. Which means Heath had probably taken a taxi back to the hotel. He sighs tiredly and rubs a hand down his face before getting in the car and driving as hurriedly as he dares to the hotel. It's thankfully only a few blocks away but he stops on the way to pick up some subs, aware that Heath hadn't ate catering and doubting that he'd thought ahead to get anything on the way to the hotel.

By the time he makes it inside, he finds that the room is quiet and dark, Heath's steady breathing coming from the couch. He turns a light on and stares down at him for a moment before tossing the sub down onto his chest before going into the bathroom, listening to him stir with a startled gasp. Wade showers slowly, washing off the day's stress and tension, before returning to the main room, toweling off his dark hair.

Heath is sitting up, picking vacantly at one of the subs, barely seeming to notice as Wade reaches down and snags the other one, eating it in a few quick bites before sitting down next to him. "I'm sorry," he mumbles after a moment. Wade looks over at him and he swallows. "I shouldn't'a lost it out there, and left you at the arena and everything... I just couldn't... I lost to El Torito and everything was just... too much." He looks up, desperation and pain in his eyes. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. And I don't want it to ruin us, either, but I just... WWE's always been my dream, I don't want to just leave it, but..."

Wade listens, not sure what to say, what Heath needs to hear right now. "This won't ruin us," he tells him quietly. "Whatever happens, wherever you go... we'll always be... us. I do like working in the same company as you, but considering what's been going on, I don't blame you for thinking of other ventures." They sit quietly for awhile before Wade releases a breath. "It's late. Let's go to bed, you can sleep on it and think more about it tomorrow." He reaches forward and runs his fingers down Heath's face. "Alright?"

"Yeah, alright," the ginger sighs, getting up and heading for the bed.

Wade watches him for a moment before collecting what's left of Heath's sub and heading to bed. "Here, eat the rest of this," he tells him. "You'll feel better." As Heath works on that, Wade crawls into bed and waits until he finishes, cleaning his hands on a napkin before crawling into bed next to Wade. "No matter what you decide, I will support you, Ginger," he promises quietly, leaning over to kiss Heath.

"Thanks, Brit," he mumbles. "G'night."

"Good night." Wade wraps an arm around him and listens until Heath's breaths turn steady and slow again, finally allowing himself to fall asleep too.


	13. House Guest

"This is not your bloody house," Wade says incredulously, staring around Heath's house. It's large and smells of old money and he thinks it's utterly ridiculous. "Whose house did you break into, and why did you drag me into this crime spree?"

Heath laughs and rolls his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, Brit. I didn't break into anythin'. Certain members of the Layfield family are more agreeable than Uncle John, so they agreed to let me film in here."

Wade stares at him. "Some of them are insane enough to accept that you're their never-before-seen relative, Clem? Seriously?" Heath nods and Wade facepalms, muttering darkly about stupid Americans. This doesn't wipe the grin off of Heath's face, however, as he follows him through the house, taking it all in. There's a massive library and, of all the things, a mechanical bull. He doesn't think much of either until Wade stares at it, a strange look on his face. 

"Wanna ride it on the show?" he offers. Wade shoots him a dirty look and he smirks, shrugging. "Just a suggestion, man. No big deal." He wanders off, trailing a hand along the spines of books, unaware of the second glance Wade offers the bull before following him. A few of the bedrooms are closed up but there are a few guest rooms that open with a twist of the doorknob and Heath hops onto the massive bed with a whoop, grinning when the nicely made sheets go all over the place.

"You're a mess," Wade tells him, arms crossed over his chest as he watches him from the doorway. "And I'm not remaking the bed for you."

"Wouldn't want you to," Heath calls from where he's laying, fanning his arms and legs out as if to make snow angels in the bedding. "I'm sure they pay the staff good money to handle things of that nature."

"I doubt they're paid to deal with ridiculous, destructive gingers," Wade grunts, leaning in to snag Heath and pull him out of the bed. "Come ON."

Obliging, Heath sighs. "You're no fun, Brit," he grouses, following him back to the library. "What're we doing?"

"I'm getting on that bull, and you're going to do whatever ridiculous thing it is you do while we film," he mumbles, finding the settings to activate the thing before motioning to the cameraman. He looks uncomfortable but starts filming and Wade grits his teeth, determined not to make a fool out of himself for the show. Thankfully he holds on long enough to seem impressive, the bull eventually winding down enough that he slips off and walks smugly over to "Clem", eyeing him. "These are all of your books?" he asks incredulously.

Heath agrees eagerly, talking about how reading them got him three wives, which so comes out of nowhere that Wade stares at him, wide eyed. It takes everything in him not to laugh, and how exactly he manages it, he's not sure. Heath tilts his hat as Wade prepares to leave, telling him he'd be a welcome house guest at any time.

Wade casts a glance around once more before saying something about maybe taking him up on it when he turns and leaves the room, heading for the door. Once the cameraman stops filming, he returns and snags Heath, pulling him closer. "Three wives, huh?" he smirks, searching his dark eyes. "One wasn't enough?"

"Nah, that's not funny," he mumbles. "But this was, definintely. Don't you think?"

Wade shrugs and looks around, relieved to see that they're alone now as he leans in and kisses him. "You are a ridiculous man."

"And you enjoy it," Heath offers.

Wade simply stares at him hard before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit.


	14. Injury

Wade Barrett has been in the wrestling business long enough to understand. To take things in stride, especially when they have to do with Heath Slater's stubborn determination to cling to his privacy. Injuries, hurt feelings, whatever, brush it off, continue on. But it's been a few months since he'd taken time off from the WWE and no one outside of Wade, 3MB and the higher ups in the WWE knew why. Which is fine, except that apparently the locker room gossip bug is stronger than any of them realize.

Wade, 3MB, none of them know how Mick Foley had known, but one day he idly tweets about Heath having a back injury last December and it's clear when Heath sees it. He goes from being his usual, hyper self to a brooding, uncomfortable mess. "Why did he tweet that?" he demands, shaking his phone at Jinder and Drew. "Which of ya told him?"

"We didn't!" Jinder insists.

"Why would we do that?" Drew wonders, his accent thick as Heath glowers at them. "Ya told us it was private, and we respected that. Maybe someone heard and it spread back to Mick, but it really wasn't our doin' anything on purpose. I promise, Heath."

The fight leaves him as quickly as it'd arrived and he slumps down on the bench, digging his fingers through his hair and tugging unceremoniously at his bright strands. Wade frowns at him before turning to the other two. "Give us a minute," he says, seeing them to the door and shutting it securely behind them before joining Heath. "What was all of that?"

Heath cringes and finally looks up, their eyes locking. His gaze is so overwhelmed by guilt and... shame... that Wade finds it hard to stare into his face. "I didn't mean to lose it on 'em," he confesses weakly. "It's just... I don't like to show weakness, especially here. I get beat down by everyone enough as it is, and I didn't want anyone to have one more thing to target when they see me. But now with one tweet, it's common knowledge, and I just... I can't go through that again. The time off, the rehab, tryin' to get back here... to my band, to you."

Wade releases a breath, nodding grimly. "You know how the business is, Heath. Everyone knows everything, which means there are no secrets. I'm sure Mick didn't mean anything by tweeting about it."

"I know he didn't," Heath admits. "I just wish he hadn't..." He closes his eyes and leans back when Wade slowly begins to stroke his back, slow and methodical, taking care over the spots where he'd hurt the worst back over the holidays. "Ya remember."

"Of course I do," Wade mutters. "This was usually the only way to get you to fall asleep. Only one of us are allowed to be cranky insomniacs."

"It looks good on ya. Sometimes," Heath chuckles, leaning against him as he applies more pressure to the tense muscles along his shoulders.

Wade scoffs. "Everything looks good on me."

"Your humble attitude is truly amazin'," Heath chuckles, shifting to look up at him with a fond smirk on his face.

Wade rolls his eyes and leans over, kissing him. "Shut up. And go find your blood so-called band and prove to them that you're not mad at them."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs, getting to his feet. Pausing in mid-action of pulling the door open, he turns and looks back at Wade with a soft smile on his face. "Thanks, Brit."


	15. Return

Heath's fast asleep when the bed shifts, dips. Wade hovers over him, causing him to grunt and swat at him as he reluctantly wakes up. "Get offa me, man," he mumbles sleepily, trying and failing to roll away. "Brit, dammit-"

Wade laughs and nudges him, sounding so ... _cheerful_... that Heath opens his eyes and twists around to look at him, unable to glare in the face of the usually grumpy man's exuberance. "Guess what, Ginger?"

Heath frowns up at him, trying to determine just what could be making him look so pleased with himself. "Ya know I'm not great at guessing, Brit. What is it?" Wade continues to smirk down at him until he huffs and swats at Wade's chest. "Tell me, man!"

Wade rolls his eyes and leans in, kissing Heath sharply. "I'm finally having my first match back since my injury." Now that _is_ big news and Heath chuckles slightly as Wade sits up, gripping Heath's wrist and pulling him up into a sitting position as well. "Well? Was it worth waking you up?"

"Yeah," he says, running a hand through his hair. "So what do you know? S'it against anyone good, or...?"

"I have no bloody clue, I was just notified that I was being booked, and to be prepared to compete." He shifts his arm, stretching it out before throwing an experimental elbow, Heath's eyes wide at the speed behind it. "As close to 100% that I'm going to get, I suppose." he muses.

Heath shakes his head and ducks back while holding a pillow in front of his face, not wanting to risk getting smacked with another of his of his elbows. "Watch it, geez, Wade!" But he's laughing, happy for the other man. After everything Wade's been through, the injury and only being able to get on TV through his bad news gimmick, Heath's glad he's finally getting in-ring time again, all too aware of how the last few months had ate at him, the lack of matches making him wonder if perhaps WWE as a whole had lost faith in him.

Finally tiring of testing his healed arm, Wade drops down next to Heath against the headboard and stares at the opposite wall, his fingers slowly slipping over to curl around Heath's hand. Not much for holding hands usually, he seems awkward at first until Heath squeezes back and strokes Wade's knuckles with his thumb. "Thank you, Ginger," he finally says, surprising Heath even further. "For supporting me through all of this, and always trying to cheer me up even when I was a bloody tosser. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, but you stayed by my side through it all anyway, as you always have done."

Heath traces the lines of Wade's hands, smirking when he releases a muffled little breath at the unexpected tickling sensation. "Nah, it wasn't easy," he admits. "But whenever it got hard'n'I felt like yellin' at ya, I'd remember everything you've supported me through, and it made it easier kinda." Wade rolls his head on the pillows to look over at him and Heath smiles, shifting and rolling over to rest his head on Wade's shoulder. "I'm glad you're healed, and I'm glad they're bookin' ya again."

Wade brushes his hair back soothingly and nods, resting his cheek on the top of Heath's head. "I am too," he murmurs, closing his eyes and relaxing for the first time in what feels like months.


	16. Short

"Ugh, man, I feel I just got back to bein' normal, touring with the band and everythin' else, and now I gotta do events in Saudi Arabia," Heath says into the phone, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. "This is ridiculous... but it is kinda awesome here." He stares around at his surroundings, releasing a breath. "So how are things goin' over there?"

Wade doesn't say anything for a long moment and Heath starts to worry, but before he can prod him further, the Brit finally speaks up. "Well, it's been interesting," he says in a strange tone of voice.

"What d'ya mean?" he asks, pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear as he enters the hotel booked for the roster who were flown over for the shows, needing his hands free to unlock his door and get inside.

"I suppose I should warn you before you come back to the States and have to fight him for the position," Wade says, sounding _much_ too amused by whatever he's withholding from Heath.

"Aw c'mon Brit, stop teasing me and spit it out!" he exclaims, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face again. It's over a hundred degrees outside, and has been since they arrived. There's little relief anywhere, and it shows, all of them looking a bit sunburnt and frazzled even after a dip in the pool outside. He's definitely not in the mood for Wade's teasing.

"Fine, fine," he says, his deep laugh, rarely heard to begin with, making Heath even more uncomfortable. "You remember how _the band_ replaced you with Ricardo last winter?"

Heath frowns out of the window of his hotel room, barely registering the scenery as he ponders what Wade might be inching towards revealing. "Uh, yeah. So?"

"Hornswoggle is the newest member of 3MB now." He waits for Heath's response and, when it finally comes, it doesn't disappoint.

"WHAT?!" he squeeches, his voice reaching a highpitched octave that Wade's never heard in all of the years he's known him. "Ricardo, I could kinda understand, but... but that troll?! Why?"

Wade shrugs, smirking. "It is only temporary, I suppose," he says. "A short replacement for a short time."

"Oh, you're... you're really enjoyin' this, ain't you?" Heath asks, burying his face in his hands. "Why can't they ever replace me with someone cool?" He cuts off Wade before he can respond, "Don't even. Just... shut up."

Wade chuckles. "Relax, Ginger. You'll be back home in a few days and will boot Hornswoggle, everything'll be fine. They're not replacing you. That's a bit impossible, after all." He pauses. "If anyone would know that, it'd be me. After all, I allowed you in two groups, for some reason."

"Hey, I was the glue that held everythin' together," he says, rolling his eyes. "You knew that better than anyone."

"I suppose," Wade admits lazily. "Anyway, it's late here so I'm going to try to get some sleep. See you soon, Ginger."

"Yeah, see you, Brit." He listens as Wade breathes into the receiver instead of hanging up immediately, figuring that his insomnia is playing up again, which explains this oddly timed call. "Brit, we can talk for awhile longer if you want, I'm just sittin' at pool side."

Wade huffs, staring out at the dark ocean just visible from the apartment's windows. Still a bit too cool for his tastes in swimming, he'd trade it all for some of the warmth where Heath's at right now. "Now who's teasing who? But fine."

Heath laughs and gets comfortable, dipping his free hand in the glistening water. "I can take a picture for you."

"Bloody hell, I hate you."

"No, you don't." He smirks when Wade makes a strangled noise. "Love you too, Brit."

"Whatever," he groans. "Who have you been losing to lately?"

"Ugh, you sure know how to ruin the mood," Heath rolls his eyes, aiming the camera towards himself and taking the picture anyway. He sends it on to Twitter, and to Wade, listening when Wade's phone beeps. "Sleep well tonight, Brit."

Wade grunts. "Yes, fine, whatever, I love you too, Ginger. Now before you go on more about the perfect swimming conditions over there, I think I will get some sleep. Boodah won't stop whining at my feet. Ridiculous dog."

"You love him too." Heath laughs when Wade curses, either from what he said, or from almost tripping over the large dog. "Come on, say it."

"He knows how I feel about him," the cranky Brit says. "Good night, Ginger."

He sounds pretty final this time so Heath lets it go with a short laugh. "Good night, Brit."

This time Wade hangs up instantly and Heath smiles, settling back against the warm chair.


	17. Missing

Going to Smackdown that week is weird. It's quiet, almost peaceful even. The locker room, hallways and even Wade's hotel room shares this in common. He sits on a bench and stares ahead, wrestling gear limp in his hands as a startling realization comes to him.

He bloody well hates it. It's quiet and he's trapped in his own thoughts, the standard heavily accented Southern drawl missing from his internal monologue. Groaning, he tosses his knee pads back into his bag and stands up, scraping his fingers through his dark hair before pacing around the room. It doesn't help that his insomnia is also worse, his bed cold and empty, no cascade of warm orange hair on his shoulder when he's struggling to sleep even for an hour.

He does his job, however, declaring the bad news of the night to all of the peasants at that night's Smackdown. Except that, while he struggles to remain on point with his promo, the vitriol he's feeling towards everyone and everything right now making this a bit easier, all he can think is that the only _real_ bad news in the world right now is that Heath is still touring Saudi Arabia, leaving him here, alone, to handle all of this nonsense on his own.

Finally feeling appeased by the crowd's displeasure with him and his statement, he leaves the stage and grabs his things, heading for the car. He grimaces and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, reaching over and turning on the radio, flipping around until he finds the annoying rock music that Heath usually listens to. It's not the same without Heath's awful singing next to him, but it drowns out some of the silence, at least.

Arriving at the hotel is something of a relief, Wade sinking into the mattress and staring at the ceiling. He rolls over and turns on the radio, relieved that the station he'd been listening to in the car is still audible. Folding his arms over his chest, he stares up at the ceiling and counts the tiles, trying to relax enough to sleep. He's about to give up and smother himself in his pillows when his cell phone goes off, the ringtone making his eyes light up. Lunging for it, he quiets the 3 Man Band theme by jabbing the answer button. "Hello?"

"Hey, Brit," Heath greets him, his voice a balm on the other man's loneliness. "Saw on Twitter Smackdown's just ended, so figured I'd check in before things really got movin' here."

Wade hesitates, seeing no need to make Heath feel guilty while there's nothing either of them can do about it just yet. "It's going alright," he lies.

"Uh huh," Heath drawls slowly. They sit for a few moments, listening to each other breathe, before Heath chuckles. "Is that one'a my music stations on the radio in the background? 

"What!? No," Wade exclaims, scrambling to shut the radio off- but he hits the wrong button and turns it up instead. Heath's laughter overwhelms the music as he slaps at it until it shuts up.

"It so was!" he crows. "Aw, Brit, do you miss me that much that you're listenin' to my music?"

"No, I was trying to find a station that's playing _real_ music," he grouses. "I was in the middle of it when my phone rang."

Heath chuckles softly, falling quiet. "I miss you too, Brit," he finally says quietly. "But I'll be home soon."

Wade releases a breath, too tired to keep the charade going as he slumps back against his pillows. "Not soon enough," he admits quietly.

"I can stay on the phone a bit longer, see if we can get you to sleep without that insomnia rearin' its nasty head again. How's that sound?"

Wade wants to ask how he knows, but it's clear. Heath's been with him long enough to be able to read his moods, even through the phone and with thousands of miles between them. "It sounds bloody better than listening to that music for hours."

Heath's laugh is sharp and a little impatient but he begins to talk anyway, telling Wade about his matches, the sightseeing he's been able to do here and there, the people he's met. The hotel room they're in, anything he can think of until he hears Wade's breathing growing deep and regularly. "Ni-Night, Brit," he whispers softly before hanging up with a smile on his face, now beyond eager to finish this tour and go home.


	18. Recovery

"Son of a ... I'm gonna kill that bull," Heath groans. Raw had just ended a bit ago and he and Wade had both, very slowly, made their way back to the hotel. It had hurt, driving had sucked, they had seemingly hit every pothole along the way, but now finally, they're here, in bed, Heath flat on his back and Wade on his stomach, both struggling to breathe normally. Heath had been gored in... a pretty unfortunate place, and Wade has brutal welt marks across his back after wrestling Sheamus. "Ya alright, Wade?"

Wade grunts in response and Heath sighs, tilting his head to get a better look at him. His face is buried in pillows, the vicious welts on his back looking somehow worse under the dim light of the hotel room. It's clear neither of them are going to get much, if any, sleep tonight so Heath painstakingly gets to his feet and, gritting his teeth at each step, grabs his keycard and goes out into the hall. Thankfully the ice machine is a few feet away, in a small side room. He stands and fills the bucket, waiting impatiently until anymore would send the ice scattering across the floor.

Hoisting the bucket up, he walks back towards their room, unlocking the door and heading inside. He fills two baggies full of ice and wraps one in a towel before laying down with it, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose as it begins to slowly ease his discomfort. Once he feels like moving even the slightest won't make him scream, he rolls over towards Wade and plucks an ice cube from the second baggie, carefully running it across Wade's back, missing the welts as best as he can from this awkward angle.

At first, Wade tenses up, not expecting the cold, but soon he relaxes into it, breathing roughly into the pillow as it slowly eases his pain as well. Heath smiles, feeling a little like he's working one of those old activity book maze games as he dodges and glides across the uninjured flesh on Wade's back. "How's that feel?"

"Fine," the Brit mumbles, which for him essentially means "Bloody great, please don't stop", so Heath doesn't. When the ice cube melts entirely, Heath traces his chilled fingers around Wade's spine before fishing another out of the bag and continuing the process until Wade is relaxed, clearly close to falling asleep. Counteracting the cold, Heath leans closer and presses a warm kiss to his shoulder, above one of his surgical scars, smirking when Wade shudders for an entirely different reason. "Bloody hell, Heath," he mumbles, peeking at him from the folds of his pillow.

Heath grins at him and nuzzles closer, losing track of the ice cube as Wade shifts up enough to kiss him on the lips, the two of them exhaling at the same time. "That's better."

"Damn right it is," Wade sighs. "Thank you for getting ice. I couldn't even think straight earlier." He frowns. "I think I'm getting soft, Ginger."

Heath snorts. "You? Please, Brit. These welts do look pretty nasty... 'sides, at least you weren't sidelined by some damn bull goring you in the... well." He huffs.

Wade coughs, trying not to laugh, but when Heath rolls his eyes, he can't help but barking out a quick chuckle. "Sorry," he mumbles, not sounding entirely sincere. Heath tries to move away but Wade tightens his arm around him and squeezes. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Somewhere where I won't be laughed at for this crap," he grouses, but doesn't fight Wade's hold on him. They fall quiet, letting the ice continue to work its magic. "Think we can sleep now?"

"Perhaps," Wade sighs. "Cold and in some pain, what better way to rest, hm?"

"You're British, aren't you used to that sorta thing by now?" Wade's grumbles leaves Heath laughing now but he doesn't move away, encouraging the ginger to settle next to him and get comfortable, careful not to jostle him too much. "'Night," he whispers after a few minutes, lacing his fingers with Wade's.

"Good night," Wade mumbles back, his eyes fluttering shut finally.


	19. Stay Back

The attack by The Shield against 3MB had been vicious, fast. Wade had barely had time to blink before the men had appeared, Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins quickly taking out Jinder and Drew, leaving Heath to stare into the emotionless face of Roman Reigns. It had been obvious when he'd realized there was no getting out of this, all hope leaving his dark eyes... then Dean had struck, and Roman had punched him hard in the face, leaving him unconscious on the floor.

Wade finds them after a short search and kneels down next to him, cradling his head in his hands and watching as his eyes flutter, Heath entirely unresponsive to their voices, their touch. Wade barely notices or cares as Drew and Jinder are helped out of the rubbage that The Shield had left them in. They are at least speaking and moving around on their own well enough so he keeps his focus on the much too still ginger on the ground as trainers bustle around, preparing to move him safely under Wade's watchful gaze.

Heath stirs when he's lifted up onto a stretcher, dark eyes opening as his lips part in some distress. Wade leans closer and rests a hand on his chest, keeping him from disrupting what the trainers are trying to do to help him. "Brit," he breathes out. "Wha- ... where..." He's looking around, trying to find Drew and Jinder. "Wh-..."

"McIntyre and Mahal are fine," he says quietly. "They're getting looked over at the trainer's office and you will be soon, just be patient, ginger." Finding Heath's hand amongst the sheets and equipment, he squeezes his fingers and follows along quietly once they finally start to move. "The Shield got you pretty good, but don't worry about it. The rest of us'll sort them out in the ring later."

Heath's eyes close once more and Wade frowns, disappointed and worried, but he comes to only a minute later, blinking around at the trainer's office as he's settled down on a cot for a proper examination. He seems to relax upon hearing Drew and Jinder's distinctive voices as they discuss what hurts with the trainer's aids, his eyes shifting back towards Wade. A small smile flickers across his face when he realizes their hands are still interlaced, but then he grows fretful, biting his lip. "The match..."

Wade shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, ginger. Whoever of us are left will handle it." He gets up, as if about to leave, but Heath's surprisingly strong grip keeps him by his side and Wade stares down at him. "It's ok, I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs, resting his other hand over Heath's. "Just moving to give the trainer room."

Heath swallows and looks over, realizing that the trainer is trying to get to him. "Oh," he sighs, releasing Wade. "Just- stay here, huh? It's... it's safe..."

"I'm not going anywhere until I have to," Wade promises, settling back in on a chair next to the cot. "See, right here, where you can see me."

Heath relaxes at this and allows the trainer to resume his examination, grimacing as the bright light shone in his eyes makes his headache worse. Thankfully, the trainer rules out concussion quickly, providing him with some ibuprophen before taking his leave, urging Heath to take it easy for a few days. Jinder and Drew wander over and the three begin to talk, the two distracting him sufficiently for Wade to get up and sneak out of the room.

His team's numbers are greatly diminished from eleven to five and his confidence in the match tonight wavers as he locks eyes with Del Rio, neither of them thrilled. A kind of understanding passes between them because while Wade has Heath to protect, Alberto has Ricardo to think of so they're both determined to see this through as quickly as possible. The five of them last longer than Wade, in all of his pessimistic glory, expects but it's obvious when The Shield is on too much of a roll to be defeated. Alberto senses it too, Wade can tell, so again they exchange glances before dropping off of the apron and heading for the gorilla position.

They're almost there, Wade can taste the freedom from this losing endeavor when the crowd begins to react to _something_ that sounds not so good for either of them. He _almost_ feels bad because Ricardo is primarily an announcer or interviewer, with little chance of defending himself against The Shield, but all Wade wants to do is get back to the trainer's office, grab Heath and get to higher ground, so he does nothing as Alberto turns and is immediately struck, dropped by what had taken Heath out earlier.

Wade doesn't pause, instead walking even faster through the halls. He's unsurprised when the bell rings, Lilian announcing The Shield the winners. Once he's back in the trainer's office, carefully shaking Heath awake, he finally feels like he can breathe again. "Come on, ginger," he mumbles. "Let's get out of here."

They're by the car, Wade attempting to unlock it while keeping Heath on his feet, when he mumbles, "Did ya win, Brit?"

Wade hesitates, finally unlocking the car. Settling Heath in the passenger's seat, he leans in and ruffles Heath's hair. "Yeah, we won," he mumbles, kissing Heath before pulling back and shutting the door to keep him inside. _He'll know the truth soon enough,_ he thinks, twirling his keys around his finger.


	20. Winners

Raw for once had been decent for both of them. Heath and Drew had beat Los Matadores and Wade had beat RVD to become #1 contender for the Intercontinental title. They're both sore- Heath because El Torito had plancha'd all three of them after the tag match, and Wade just because RVD is a stiff competitor- but neither seem to mind as they make their way back to the hotel. Wins are a luxury in this business, more for some than others, so Heath doesn't want to waste this moment on ice and sleep, immediately grabbing Wade's arm and tugging him into the bar before he can pull away to hide in their hotel room and think.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, ginger?" he demands, smirking slightly as Heath tugs with all of his might just to get Wade over the threshold.

"I wanna have a drink," he says. "To celebrate. It ain't often we both win in one show, after all!" Wade sighs, giving in and allowing Heath to push him into a bench before going off to the bar to order a couple of beers. It's not his usual late night activity but Heath looks so pleased with himself that he gives in, swayed by the ginger's happy grin. "Cheers."

Wade rolls his eyes but clicks his bottle to Heath's anyway, relieved that it's not an entirely _awful_ brand of beer as he downs some. American beers would never compete with British ones, but it's still better than nothing.

"We should do this more often," Heath says, sloshing his beer around and watching it froth up inside of the dark tinted glass.

"You should _win_ more often," Wade says without thinking, cringing as he realizes what he'd just said, Heath looking wounded for a moment before trying to school his expression back into stoic indifference. "Ginger, I-"

Heath shrugs and takes an almost angry swig of his beer. "It's fine, I know I'm a loser. Whatever." They sit in silence for awhile, Heath purposely keeping his eye off of Wade as he downs his beer. "I'm gettin' outta here," Heath mumbles once his beer is empty but before he can walk away from the booth, Wade grabs his hand and draws back in, cupping his face and kissing him deeply.

Wade's not much for PDA of any sort, more than content to keep any affection between them to the privacy of their hotel rooms and the apartment, but it had been a dirty move, a thoughtless thing to say, and this is the only way he can think to keep Heath from storming off in a fit of anger. "I'm sorry," he mumbles: another rarity from him.

Heath sighs and grips his collar, tugging a little rougher than is necessary. "Asshole."

"I know." Wade stares into Heath's eyes, watching as the anger dissipates. "Are you still mad at me?"

Heath rolls his eyes. "I guess not." He pouts a little until Wade kisses him again. "Ok, ok, fine. Don't exceed your own quota of public kisses now." He briskly pats Wade's chest before sitting back, looking close to content. "Finish your beer, let's get outta here."

Wade nods, running his finger around the rim of his beer innocently as he reaches under the table and finds Heath's hand, squeezing it. "I do love you, you know. Win or lose."

"Yeah. I know. I love you too, injured or whole." A meaningful glance passes between them and Heath coughs, smirking. "You done?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go." They pay for their beers and walk side by side to the elevator, Wade smiling faintly as Heath leans into him while they wait for the car to reach the ground floor.


	21. Strips

"I dunno man," Heath drawls one day, staring unhappily at his gear. "I'm sick'a comin' out in the same stuff day in and day out, but I dunno what to do about it." Zack's sitting in a corner of the room, playing around with his phone, and their eyes lock. "What do you think?"

The broski sighs and pockets the device, getting up and joining Heath. He examines the pants and black shirt, running a hand over his face thoughtfully. "Dolph used to slice up his shirts, maybe that could be enough of a change for you?"

Heath nods slowly, thinking it over. "Alright. How do you do it though?" Zack shrugs and the two of them stare at a pair of scissors blankly. "Would Ziggler do it for me?"

"Maybe, if I asked nicely," Zack smirks. "I'll be back."

"Uh huh," Heath says doubtfully, watching him go. "Hey! Zack, I need this done within the hour! Don't..." he groans. "... dwardle... dammit." Thankfully Zack returns with Dolph in less than ten minutes and they all look at the shirt, Dolph making a face like he's trying not to laugh. "Well, are ya gonna do it or not?" Heath finally demands, impatient.

"You're seriously gonna dress like-?" Dolph's sputtering laughter fades when Zack elbows him. "Ow! Fine, broski, I'll do it. God..." Huffing, he grabs the scissors and starts shredding the back like he and AJ used to do to their shirts, quickly losing himself in the repetitive motions and forgetting the inspiration for the deconstruction of the fabric. He's just finished, about to move to the front, when the locker room door slams shut and all of them jump, the scissors clattering to the floor.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Wade demands, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares from Heath to Zack to Dolph, to the shirt laying on the table. "Isn't that your gear for tonight?"

"Yes, it is," Heath says slowly. "It was borin', I was tryin' to spruce it some and Zack suggested maybe strippin' it like Ziggler does his shirts sometimes."

"Of course," Wade huffs, his eyes narrowing as Dolph leans over to pick up the scissors. Stepping forward, he plants his foot decisively on the blade, causing the Show Off to yelp. "Back away, Ziggler." They all watch, perplexed, as he picks the scissors up instead and turn to the shirt, examining it with a weary gaze. When he starts to shred across the fabric, it's clear Heath wants to say something but he bites his lip, waiting to see. "There." Finished, Wade turns and holds the shirt up for Heath to look at.

It's actually... decent. A little rough, sure, but all in all... "Wow, thanks, Brit," Heath mumbles, taking it from him. "This is great." He quickly puts it on and Wade examines him before snagging his fingers in the slits, tugging Heath over to him. "Hey- that wasn't the purpose for-" He shuts up when Wade grips his jaw and stares down at him. "What?"

"Next time you want someone who isn't a one of the gear designers to play with your clothes, ask me first." He quickly kisses Heath then pushes him towards the exit and follows him out, Heath's loud southern accent echoing back into the locker room as Dolph and Zack look at each other, perplexed.

"They're weird," Dolph mutters, leaning against Zack.

"No arguments here, bro," Zack laughs, kissing the top of his head.


	22. Soothing

"Why does everyone target me in these damn battle royals? Friggin Big Show, man..." Heath demands as he and Wade stumble into their hotel room after Raw that night, Wade also a little beat up after a match against Big E.

"No clue," Wade tells him, slumping down against the bed and rubbing his shoulder briskly. Heath watches him closely as he clicks a lamp on but Wade shakes his head. "I'm fine, ginger. Just sore from all of those suplexes."

"Hm." Heath grunts and walks past him, heading for the desk to slump in the chair there and try to rest for a few minutes... when long fingers tangle in the shredded parts of his shirt, tugging him back. He ends up sprawled across Wade's lap, blinking in confusion while the Brit brushes his fingers over the bare skin visible between the strips of fabric. "Whatcha doin'?" he murmurs, eyes slipping closed as Wade's ministrations sooth him.

"If you go to bed sore, neither of us are going to get any sleep with all of your tossing and turning," Wade says, pushing him onto the bed and applying more pressure while massaging his shoulders down to his back.

"I _don't-_" his voice fades and drifts into a soft groan as Wade finds a particularly tender spot, rubbing carefully over it as Heath presses his face into the mattress. "Ah, hell," he grunts once his mind stops blanking over the strange barrier between pain and relief. Wade works him over for a few more minutes until he's a ginger puddle against the sheets, barely able to sit up enough to bury his face into the pillows to fall asleep.

"I suppose my work here is done," Wade smirks, turning to shut the lamp back off and grimacing when pain stabs down his shoulder to his spine. As soon as the room's dark, he joins Heath and sighs, snuggling into the other man's warmth... when he abruptly touches Wade's shoulder and lightly rubs it. "Ginger-"

"Shhhh," Heath hisses, timing his strokes with his inhales and exhales. Before long, Wade finds himself emulating his breathing as the tense soreness from his muscles fades away, leaving him slack and sleepy under Heath's fingers.

"Thank you, ginger," he mumbles while on the cusp of falling asleep. He smiles drowsily when Heath kisses his temple.

"Ni-night, Brit."

"G'night."


	23. Bad News

Heath is sitting in the main locker room, scrolling through twitter, when a rough boot impacts with his foot, causing him to yelp. "Hey! What the-" He shuts up as soon as he sees Wade, standing before him with a brand new merch shirt declaring his intention to announce the latest bad news. "Huh. New merch, eh?" Putting his phone down, he stands up and examines the red lettered shirt.

"What do you think?" Wade asks, tired of getting circled quietly. Heath hums for a moment before stepping closer. "What are you doing?"

"Lemme see..." Impulsively gripping the shirt by the hem and lifting it up over Wade's head, Heath smirks at the look on the taller man's face before pulling it on himself. Wade stares at him, perplexed, until he grins. "Yeah, I like it. It's comfy." He just as quickly takes it off and puts it back on Wade, leaving him thoroughly flabberghasted. "And it looks good on ya."

"You are ridiculous," Is all Wade can think to say, Heath grinning up at him.

"You like that about me," he tells him with a smirk, which falters when he spots the nearest monitor and realizes he's meant to be in the ring, one of HHH's attempts at a backup plan should Batista's match against Roman goes wrong. Which it clearly had. "Ugh, be back later, Brit," he exclaims before dashing out to the ring. Where he's promptly met with a spear and a superman punch.

Wade winces and shakes his head, resting his hand over the logo of his shirt, Heath's scent still noticeable on it. "Bloody ginger," he sighs before going out to collect him at gorilla. He shoos the referees away thoughtlessly, supporting Heath back to the trainer's office himself. "You should've known that wouldn't end well," he mumbles. "But that never really does stop you, does it?" It's ridiculous but he assumes it's something to be proud of too, that no matter how many times Heath gets knocked down, he never stops trying.

While they wait for the trainer, Heath barely with it, Wade rolls his eyes and brushes his bright hair out of his eyes before sitting him up. "Whatta you doin'?" he slurs wearily, clinging to Wade as he pulls his shirt off and puts it on Heath once more.

"You liked it so much, you may as well have it. I can always get another."

Heath blinks at him for a moment before settling back against the cot, splaying his hand out over the soft fabric. "Feels nice," he sighs. "Thanks, Brit."

"You're welcome." Wade shakes his head and leans in, kissing Heath quickly before the trainer finally comes in. "Ridiculous man."

Heath laughs softly, eyes warm with affection and amusement. "Love you too, Brit," he murmurs before they turn to greet the trainer.


	24. Quit

"_Maybe he should just quit."_

JBL had said it after his loss to El Torito, Heath is told later on. Various superstars in the back, even some of the divas, are laughing and gossiping about it and it gets harder and harder to keep his head up as he walks past them, ignoring their pointing fingers and gazing eyes. The whispers and giggles as he trudges past, sore and more than a little angry. Wrestling had been his dream for so long, and his livelihood beyond that... so the thought that someone would so cavilerly say he should just give up, leave the company, and then... what? eats at him.

He'd fought for years in developmental just to make it to this stage, had suffered injuries and all sorts of indignities as a NXT rookie, and yeah he's nowhere near where he'd like to be on the card right now, but leave? Quit? Just the thought of it makes him ill. He'd quit basketball, sure, but he'd done that for most of his life and had finally tired of it, decided to see how far he could get in wrestling. And, all things considered, he'd done alright. Tag team champion, had faced off against so many big names in the business... It leaves him in awe when he really thinks about it, but there's so much more he wants to do...

Finding his way back to the locker room, he sits down on a bench and stares ahead blankly, cradling his face in his hands. He's not sure how much time has passed when a large hand claps against his shoulder, rubs down his back. "Ginger?" He doesn't respond vocally, simply leans over and presses his forehead into Wade's shoulder, content to hide there for awhile. Wade frowns and brushes the hair out of his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, even at this strange angle. "What's wrong? Hmm?"

He shakes his head and buries further into Wade's warmth, the British man getting truly worried when the locker room door opens just long enough for "I think JBL's right, he should just quit!" to echo back inside from the hall.

Releasing a breath, he shakes his head and guides Heath's miserably flushed face up, staring into his dark, swimming eyes. "They're bullocks, ginger. You cannot possibly not know that. None of them know you like I do." Nudging his knuckles against Heath's jaw slightly, he smirks. "No matter how bad it gets, you're not a bloody quitter, not like they are. I don't know anyone else who would keep challenging the legends just to get his arse kicked again and again and still get up and try again... It's bloody ridiculous, but it's you, and I wouldn't want you to change just because some worthless prats couldn't keep their mouths shut."

Heath ponders this, licks his lips, and sighs glumly before pulling away, smoothing his hands through his hair and trying to put himself back together physically and emotionally. "I know," he mumbles. "I'd never... just sucks hearin'. I know I ain't in a great place with my career, but I do take pride in everythin' I do and hearin' I should just quit like that... and the entire locker room talkin' about it..." He shakes his head, peeking over at Wade with a pained frown, which eases a little when Wade reaches over and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"I know," he says. "You remember when King basically said something ridiculous like that to me? Nothing came of that. And nothing should come of this, either. The commentary teams are hardly anyone worth listening to." He squeezing Heath's shoulder with a small smirk. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," Heath nods, his eyes fixed on Wade's face. "Thanks, Brit." Leaning closer, he rests against Wade's shoulder for a moment before pulling up and softly kissing him. "You're nice'n'warm."

"And you need to visit the trainer," Wade says, smirking and ignoring Heath's protests. Pulling him to his feet, Wade guides him out of the locker room, down the hall. HIs hand leaves Heath's back a moment later as he spots JBL out of the corner of his eye, wandering over towards him with a dangerous stance from days long past on the dark, dreary streets of England that his body still naturally slips into when he needs it to.

Their heights aren't that different, but JBL has been retired for a number of years, so he blanches when he sees Wade coming. Before he can speak, Wade's leaning in, his arm resting imposingly against the wall next to him, boxing him in. "Next time you think someone should quit, perhaps take it up yourself before you open your worthless mouth and say something you'll end up regretting, hm?" Brushing off Layfield's suit with brisk movements, Wade's lip twitches up in a smirk as his voice lowers into a deep, dark drawl. "Or I'm afraid I may have some _very_ bad news for you..."

JBL's eyes flicker over to rest on a wary looking Heath standing a few feet away for a moment before he nods, speechless, relieved when Wade's intense, blue gaze leaves him and the man walks back over to his former Nexus teammate, drawing him down the hallway with a steadying hand on his back.


	25. The Return

"Oh, bloody hell," Wade mumbles, recognizing the music as it echoes through the arena. Finding a monitor, he watches as the Union Jacks make their way to the ring once more and prepare for the upcoming match. When Rusev's music hits, Wade grimaces, aware of what's to come. Sure enough, Heath is his opponent and the match lasts about as long as it takes for Wade to get comfortably seated in front of the screen, Rusev stomping extra viciously into his mid-back to apply the Accolade.

Wade winces as Heath passes out, getting up and waiting by the gorilla position. He and Rusev's eyes catch for a moment but he quickly loses interest when Drew and JInder try to help Heath backstage, Wade brushing the two men off to take over, supporting Heath down the hall to the trainer's office. He settles him down and waits, watches, until the trainer determines that he's ok. Wade still has business regarding the Beat the Clock challenge happening tonight so he casts his dark gaze upon Drew and Jinder. "I need to see who my opponent is going to be. It's pointless keeping him here when he's in pain, so take him back to the hotel. He should have the keycard in his things."

"Yeah, sure," Drew agrees easily, his accent thick as he helps to collect Heath and get him out of the trainer's office.

Wade watches them go with a pinched look before turning his focus back onto what's happening in the ring. He hates waiting here, leaving Heath with those two, but he knows if anything, Jinder will keep an eye on things, will stop Drew from doing anything bloody ridiculous. He hopes. After RVD is declared the winner and Wade takes him out with a bullhammer elbow, he leaves and heads for the hotel, finally feeling like he can breathe as he lets himself into the room he's sharing with Heath.

It's quiet inside, one lonely lamp illuminating the room, and Wade releases a soft breath as he drops his bag down and looks around. It takes him a minute to adjust to the shadowy interior of the room, finally following the soft breathing to the couch. Heath is laying on his stomach, a nasty bruise forming along his lower spine and Wade grits his teeth at the sight of it, kneeling down to get a better look before scooping Heath up and walking him over to the bed, re-adjusting the bag of ice he'd been left with once he settles him down on the mattress.

Heath moans, head twisting into the pillows before he breathes out, "Wade?"

"Mm hmm," Wade says softly, reaching over to lightly knead around the bruise. "I'm here now. You're ok."

"Hurts," he says sleepily, melting against the mattress as Wade continues to work him over.

"I know," Wade sighs. He massages him quietly for a few moments before huffing out, "Union Jacks again. Bloody hell."

"The crowd liked it," Heath mumbles, closing his eyes and groaning faintly as Wade pulls away and lays down next to him, continuing to massage him. "Don't lie, you did too."

Wade snorts but doesn't provide an actual response, leaning closer to kiss the side of Heath's mouth. "Good night, ginger."

"G'night," he breathes, already half out of it from the pain and the massage and whatever the trainer had given him for it all.

Wade smiles, stroking along his bruised back once more before sprawling his hand out across Heath's back and allowing himself to fall asleep too.


	26. Chapter 26

Things aren't going well for Wade or Heath this particular night, Heath watching backstage as Wade loses his Money in the Bank qualifying match. He grimaces, turning back to the other members of 3MB and trying to follow along with their conversation... when they go to the ring. Barely a minute has passed before The Shield comes out. Heath sneers and tries to be his usual, egotistical self, but nothing helps as Roman, Seth and Dean take control quickly and he tries, and fails to escape up the ramp.

All he remembers afterwards is burning pain in his midsection, and the scramble and exclamations of voices as they check on him, Drew and Jinder, and help them backstage. It's clear, to him at any rate, when Wade arrives on the scene, the abrupt shift of bodies surrounding Heath to allow him in, his voice low and annoyed as he leans over Heath and snaps at him. "Wake up!"

Heath grunts and forces his eyes open, staring at Wade. "What the hell, man..." Wade shakes his hand in front of him, waiting with a grimace until he takes it, pulling him up to his feet. "Ow. Ow." Almost bending in half as he grabs at his midsection, Wade thankfully waits until he looks up, the two of them staring at each other.

"Shit show of a night," Wade sighs, his temper showing just in the first word alone. Wade rarely curses beyond British slang. Heath squints at him and nods, gritting his teeth as Wade draws him upright and draws an arm over his shoulders. "Mahal and McIntyre are fine," he says when Heath hesitates. "Just a little bruised. Come on."

Finally allowing himself to get dragged away, Heath sighs and buries his face in Wade's shoulder as he leads him down to the locker room. Depositing him on the nearest bench, Wade finds his bag and zips it up roughly before nudging the other bags surrounding them. "Which is yours?"

"Over in the corner," Heath grunts. Wade looks up and finally spots it, trudging over and pulling it to rest next to his own. "We leavin'?"

"Yes." He grabs Heath under the arm and drags him upright.

"Man, ya ain't gotta manhandle me so much," Heath grunts, trying and failing to pull away. "Just gotta ask me to get up, I'd get up."

Wade's about to snap at him when he sees the tense way he's carrying himself still, his eyes squinted in leftover pain. "I'm sorry," he sighs. "Come on." They walk, slowly, side by side to the exit, both eager to get back to the hotel and rest for awhile.

After a short, steaming hot shower, Heath finds himself in bed, floating somewhere between awake and asleep, the stabbing pain in his ribs every time he breathes keeping him from completely drifting away. Likewise, Wade is wide awake next to him, the moment he'd lost his best chance at the Money in the Bank briefcase replaying again and again in his mind. He's just released another angry grunt when Heath stirs and rolls over, nuzzling into his side. He sighs and wraps an arm around him, closing his eyes.

"Like ya said," Heath mumbles sleepily, "what a shit show today was."

Wade nods slowly and presses a kiss to his forehead. "This is better though."

"Yeah, it is." Heath grunts. "But I can't sleep... too sore." Heath's words fade into a soft little whisper when Wade's fingers press into his sides and lightly massage, his voice turning into a whimper before long.

"Does that hurt?" he whispers, worried that he's doing more harm than good.

"No, don't stop," Heath groans softly. "Please..."

"I won't," Wade promises, rubbing circles against his flesh until Heath has all but melted against him, slowly falling asleep. With one last burst of energy, he leans up and kisses Wade on the mouth, smiling dozily at him. "What was that for?"

"'Cause you take such good care'a me," Heath offers. "And'a Boodah. Just wanted ta say thanks. And you're gonna be ok, with or without that briefcase. You'll see."

Wade smiles and kisses him between his eyes before drawing him back down so he can sleep more comfortably. "G'night, Heath."

"G'night, Wade."


	27. Scrape

It's while The Shield is beating them down _again_ that Heath, down face first on the mat, staring into nothing, tries to remember what led to this point... why they always end up here. But it doesn't matter, all he can remember is the looks on Drew and JInder's faces backstage, before they'd come out here for one last hurrah together. Before... Well...

Before Drew and Jinder sat before him, pale and barely able to catch his eye. "So, Heath, I dunno how to tell ya this, but it's been a great run," Drew starts, looking strangely misty eyed.

Heath looks confused but before he can say anything, Jinder speaks up. "Thank you for making me part of all of this, Heath. I've quite enjoyed being _The Fun One_. Maybe someday in the future we can all rock together again."

He looks from Jinder's sad eyes to Drew's grim expression, it immediately hitting him. "No," he chokes out. "Nah, no- guys-" They immediately lean forward and hug him, Heath's arms circling them both as he gapes, flabberghasted. "Ya got released?" Drew and Jinder nod against him and he grits his teeth against the tears filling his eyes. "Son of a bitch..."

It's not a great farewell, in fact it's the worst he could offer them. Flat on his face, unable to do anything as they're railroaded once more. Fresh tears fill his eyes and he's worthless, not finding the strength to even stand for a few moments after that, stumbling back up the ramp once trainers start pushing and prodding him to move to make space for the next match. He sits in the trainer's office, his head bowed, as Drew and JInder get looked at too. Wade is around somewhere, he saw him, he just can't be bothered to look up, acknowledge what's going to happen next.

They all get cleared simultaneously by the trainer and his assistants, and then Heath doesn't really have a choice as Drew and Jinder walk up to him, ready to change out of their gear one last time and leave the arena. "I can't," he chokes out, shaking his head as Drew rests a hand on his left shoulder and Jinder his right. "I'm sorry. I failed ya both."

"No you didn't," Jinder says quietly. "You made this entire thing a lot more fun than it should've been. I wouldn't change a thing."

"I agree," Drew says. "If it had to end like this, I'm glad I was able to work with you, brother."

"It was really great workin' with ya both too," Heath murmurs, breathing raggedly as they hug him once more, like earlier. He spots Wade out of the corner of his eye but he keeps to himself, allows them this moment, despite their problems with Drew over the months. Once Drew and Jinder let him go, Heath slides off of the cot and walks with them down the hall, watching silently as they pack and prepare to leave.

Heath swallows as they hoist their bags over their shoulders and turn one last time to smile. "G'bye, Heath, see ya in Florida, yeah?" Drew says, cuffing him on the shoulder before turning. "Take care of 'im." This is to Wade, whose jaw ticks, before he nods tersely.

"You know I will, McIntyre."

Jinder rocks forward, struggling to smile as well. "Thank you again for everything, Heath. I wish you every happiness and success. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," he whispers, watching as they leave, Drew waving backwards as they walk down the hall to the door with the damningly bright red EXIT sign over it.

Wade senses what's coming, standing close until the door slams shut behind them and Heath immediately starts to slump, his long arms moving quickly to wrap around Heath, support him as finally his duty as leader, to attempt to make things better for Drew and Jinder in even the hardest of circumstances fail him, and he starts to cry. "It's ok," he mumbles into Heath's orange hair. "You're going to be ok." Heath's nails are biting into his forearm, but he doesn't move or shake free of him, just holding onto him tighter, waiting out his crying jag.

"I don't wanna go back to bein' a one man band," he chokes out. "I don't. I liked havin' 'em around... it made the losses easier, y'know?" He looks desperately sad when Wade turns him around so they're face to face, his dark eyes welling with fresh tears.

"You'll find something," he mumbles. "You always do. It'll be alright." He runs his fingers through Heath's hair before pulling him back and brushing his fingers along Heath's cheeks, drying his eyes. "Want to go back to the hotel now?"

Heath nods. "Yeah. I guess. Thanks, Brit." He leans into him for a minute, sighing when Wade kisses him quickly. "Let's get outta here." He changes into his clothes, he grabs his bag and walks slowly towards the same door that Drew and Jinder had left out of five minutes earlier. His shoulders slump a little more with each step but Wade's warmth behind him gives him some strength and he squares them before pushing the door open and stepping outside, determined to see what the next chapter in his career will bring him.

Come hell or high water, Wade vows to be right by his side, no matter what.


	28. Cheering Up

With Drew and Jinder's release from WWE and the forced dissolvution of 3MB, Heath falls down that slippery slope of depression. Wade tries to be patient, he does, but Heath's not supposed to look like this. He's not supposed to sleep less than Wade does on any given night, he's not supposed to sit quietly for hours and stare at the TV blankly. He's supposed to be ridiculously bright and cheerful, even when there's not a lot to be bright or cheerful about, he's supposed to talk too loud, grin a little too much, and play with Boodah too enthusiastically.

That's what made them work, Wade was the cranky, sarcastic British asshole and Heath was the happy-go-lucky southern hick with a heart of gold. Now, with Heath so sad, everything seems pushed off of its center between them and Wade grasps at a way to get it back, to repair everything between them. At least get Heath to smile again. Make Boodah stop looking like a kicked puppy... which is a truly ridiculous look for a dog of that size, but Wade just can't think of another way to describe it.

So he does some searching, and he does some calling, and finally finds the perfect place. Even goes and double checks the address, kissing Heath briskly on top of the head on his way out. "The things I do for that ginger git," he sighs.

The next day, their last day off before returning to the road, before Heath really has to face the reality of the WWE without his bandmates, Wade wakes Heath up with some toast, eggs and sausages, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee rounding off the meal. He blinks lazily and goes straight for the coffee, some comprehension crossing his dark eyes. "Ya made me breakfast?" he asks, the first thing he's said without any kind of prompting in days.

Wade's eyes light up. "Yes, I did. And that's not all we're doing today, so eat up, ginger."

Heath hesitates, but listens, downing the meal bite by bite until Wade is satisfied. He squawks as Wade gets up and finds his swimming trunks, tossing them at him. "Wha-"

"We're going to the beach, get dressed." Wade is already wearing his swim gear under his jeans and Heath makes a face at him, obliging. They pack some toys for Boodah, and some drinks, and head out. The noise that Heath makes when the warm Florida waves crash against his skin for the first time since he'd returned home from Smackdown makes it all worth it, Wade rubbing a hand down his back as he floats lazily in the water, eyes closed.

Wade's pretty sure they're all going to be sunburnt by the time he convinces Heath it's time to go, dropping Boodah off at the apartment really quickly before taking him to a nearby BBQ joint that they've both come to enjoy. Chicken, steak, pork and potato wedges with coleslaw are ordered and ate in a hurry, Heath leaning back to digest his meal, when Wade nudges him. "Night's not over yet," he alerts him.

"What d'ya mean?" he asks sleepily. "You've had me runnin' ragged all day, man."

"And it's been good for you. Now get up, there's one last stop." Heath sighs, grumbling slightly, but follows Wade out after they pay. Wade watches him closely, amused that the darkening night sends Heath into the kind of doze that leaves him unaware of where they're at when Wade pulls in and parks. Getting out of the car, he crosses to Heath's side and opens his door, gripping his elbow and pulling him out. "Come on, Ginger, just a few feet." Pausing long enough to lock the car, he guides Heath towards the building and pulls the door open, pushing him inside and letting the surroundings do all of the work from here on.

Heath stands there groggily for a minute, looking around, before the music and the lights dawn on him, immediately waking him up. "You took me to a karaoke place?!" he yells over his shoulder at Wade, life finally returning to his eyes.

"Square dancing too," Wade points out hesitantly, nodding briskly towards the people dancing on the opposite side of the room. _You really can find anything in Florida,_ he cringes, unable to keep from smiling as Heath throws himself into Wade's arms.

"I want to do it all!" he exclaims, grabbing Wade by the arm and pulling him into the middle of the madness.

This time, Wade follows his lead.


	29. Grimace

"No, nuh uh, get back here, Brit."

Wade groans, halfway to the locker room. "Ginger, I'm fine, bloody let me go!" he snaps when Heath catches up to him and grips his arm. "I'm not hurt, I'm just sore thanks to that bloody Ziggler, so kindly-"

"Nothin' kindly about it," Heath tells him tensely. "You're gettin' looked at by the trainer or else you're walkin' back to the hotel. I mean it, Brit. C'mon."

Wade huffs, hating it but knowing that Heath means what he says. Giving in, he follows him to the trainer's office and allows the indignity of getting examined. Thankfully everything's fine, outside of a little bruising on the hip he'd landed on so hard during the match. As soon as the trainer determines he doesn't need x-rays, or anything further, Wade pulls his clothes on and stares down at Heath, resting his hands on his significant other's shoulders. "There, you satisfied now?"

Heath nods, almost looking sheepish, before burying his face in Wade's chest and hugging him. "Just wanted to make sure, if our roles were reversed, ya'd have had me on your shoulders, draggin' me in here. Don't want you on the shelf too, so soon after... after Drew'n'Jinder..." His voice fails him and Wade sighs, squeezing him tightly. "Just wanted to make sure you're good, is all."

Wade nods. Releases a breath. "I'm fine, ginger," he whispers. "Perfectly fine. Just need some ice and sleep, and everything'll be back to normal come morning. What do you say, want to go back to the hotel now?"

"Yes." Heath slips free, eases his hand down Wade's arm and squeezes his fingers before leading him out of the arena. The drive Heath actually takes slowly for once, keeping the radio off too. Everything's silent and calm and Wade _almost_ hates it because it's not Heath in the slightest, but he keeps it to himself, knowing that Heath's just being overly cautious and sensitive to his needs because, on review, it had been a scary enough bump. With enough pain that Wade had also considered the status of his hip for a fleeting moment.

After a lengthy, hot shower that Heath insists on, Wade finds himself in bed, ice covering the worst of his bruising, already melting since he's still warm from the shower. Heath chooses then to return with fresh ice, exchanging out the packs and settling into bed next to Wade, pressing his face into Wade's neck. He still seems tense and far from the usual cheerful ginger git that he usually is and Wade finds himself idly stroking along the curves of his shoulders. "Alright?"

"Yes," Heath mumbles, curling up closer to Wade and releasing a soft breath. "You?"

"Never better." It's a lie, he's sore, and his body is struggling to decide if it's too hot from the shower or too cold from the ice, but everywhere that Heath touches feels just right so he decides to let it go. "Ginger?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going anywhere, you know this, right? And even if I do..." Wade reaches out and cups Heath's face, drawing it up so he can look him in the eye as he speaks. "Even if I ever leave WWE, that doesn't mean I'm leaving you. We'll still have our apartment, and I'll still yell at Boodah whenever he tries to trip me in the morning, and we'll still go to the beach and out fishing, and whatever we can find time to do around our schedules. I promise."

Heath's smile is gentle, relieved. He nods. "I know. It's just nice to hear it now'n'again." He kisses Wade softly before snaking his arms around his waist once more, the tension draining from his shoulders. "Nice to hear somethin' else too, sometimes..."

Wade rolls his eyes fondly. "I love you, ginger."

Heath's grin is obvious against Wade's flesh. "That's the one. I love you too, Brit."


	30. Evaluation

"No," Wade says. "_No. _Get off of me, bloody hell! I'm fine!" He's surrounded by referees, trainers, medical staff... He'd felt it the moment it happened, Swagger slinging him into the barricade wall, teeth gritting pain, and then the distant, throbbing kind of numbness of a dislocated shoulder. He's not sure what's worse, that Money in the Bank is only a few days away or that he had just promised Heath a few weeks ago he was healthy and was going to stay healthy... He closes his eyes and continues trying to push the well meaning but annoying people off of him, just wanting a minute to catch his breath, think it through...

How he ends up in a cot in the trainer's office, he's not sure, but it's just him and the WWE doctor, looking him over and prodding around his arm to make sure nothing else is wrong. He wants so badly to smack the man away, continue to ignore all of this, but he knows he can't. Still, he falls asleep at some point, coiled like a rattlesnake ready to attack, determined for this to be wrong, for him to wake up healthy and whole with his arm at prime fighting condition... The touch that draws him out of the doze he'd fallen into is gentle, ghosting over his arm, but he's still gearing for a fight to defend himself, his place in the business, his lack of interest in having yet _another_ surgery with months of rehab and... without thinking, he comes up swinging and almost sighs in relief as his knuckles collide with something warm and with some give to it.

His positive emotions are short lived when he hears something hit the wall and a unfortunately familiar exclamation. "Aw, what the hell, Brit?" This wakes him up in a hurry and he sits up, only vaguely aware of the twinge of pain in his arm at the movement as he gapes at one very cranky looking Heath. "I know you don't like bein' injured, but dammit, man..." He's gripping his cheek and Wade swallows hard, realizing what must've happened.

"Come here, ginger," he says, watching as the man listens hesitantly, walking up to him and hissing as Wade reaches out and gently pries his fingers away with his uninjured hand. It's already bruising and he grimaces at the thought of how much force he must've hit him with- being a bare knuckle fighter, there had been a time or two where he'd had to defend himself and his winnings even in sleep, and it'd never really left him. "Shit, I'm sorry. I was asleep, and..."

"S'ok, I shouldn't have touched you when you were asleep, I know how you get," Heath sighs, nuzzling into his palm. "So when's your tests'n'stuff?"

"Tomorrow," Wade mumbles. "Once we get home and I can be looked over by my own doctor."

Heath nods somberly. "I'll be there, every step of the way that you want. Surgery too. I'll take a day or two off, not like they're usin' me much since 3MB ended anyway."

Wade releases a breath, still eyeing the bruise spreading along Heath's face. "You're too good to me."

Heath just smirks. "C'mon, let's get outta here." It's a sick kind of deja vu as they walk side by side down the hall a few minutes later, Heath carrying Wade's bag and his own.

Pain medicine and the general exhausted awareness that he'll be off of the road for the foreseeable future actually forces Wade into some much needed sleep, his insomnia not eating away at the hours for once. When he wakes up, something warm is pressed against his side, laying across his good arm, and he squeezes Heath closer, squinting in the shadowy morning light at his face. The bruising along his cheek has spread all the way down to his jaw, and Wade's pretty sure his eye's going to be swollen shut too. He grimaces and kisses Heath's unblemished skin, breathing out, "I'm so sorry."

He closes his eyes, aware that the guilt is for more than one thing. For punching Heath, of course, but also for leaving him on the road alone when things are still so up in the air for him. The groggy, "I forgive ya, Brit" isn't a surprise, but also doesn't do much to ease his inner turmoil, especially when Heath sits up and lightly kisses him just to hiss as pain stabs up his jaw at the contact. "Damn, man, you got bricks in your fists or somethin'?" he wonders, pulling away and staring at himself in the mirror.

"I'll get you ice," Wade offers, aware that he needs some himself.

Heath shakes his head, though, pushing him back down. "Nah, I'll get it. You rest. And don't go swingin' when I return." His eyes soften when he sees the guilt in Wade's blue eyes, leaning over and carefully kissing him, tilting his head so the pressure is off of the discolored side of his face. "It's all gonna be ok, you'll see." Another kiss and Heath gets up, grabs the keycard and goes, undisturbed by what people might think of his face.

Wade watches him go, the bemused look on his face slowly easing into a half-smile. _It's hard not to believe him when he says things like that most times,_ he thinks, closing his eyes and relaxing into his pillows as he waits for him, careful to keep his fists relaxed this time.


	31. Give A Damn

Wade grunts as he peers at his phone, frowning. Heath's somewhere, probably doing much the same as Wade's doing right now. Wade had been injured the week prior and Heath just hadn't been booked for Money in the Bank, so both had stayed at the apartment, Heath staying close with Wade until the main event. Soon as Cena's hand was raised in victory, Heath had gotten up and left the room. Wade remembers hearing the front door open so he gets up with a grunt, walking gingerly around to avoid stomping Boodah, and walks outside.

Heath is laying in the grass next to the steps and Wade would've missed him if not for the gleam of his orange hair in the soft light streaming down from the outside light. It's hard for him to get down with his arm in a sling so he nudges Heath with his foot, relieved when he gets up and helps Wade down, settling in next to him and hugging his knees to his chest. "So," Wade murmurs, holding his phone out and letting Heath catch a glimpse of his own tweet. "You don't give a damn anymore, huh?"

Heath's sigh is loud and long and seems to rid all of the oxygen out of his body, making Wade wince. "I just... it's tirin', constantly sittin' at home and watchin' the same guys get the same things over and over, and I ain't even barely been on TV lately. And when I am, I just keep losin'. It's stupid." He traces shapes in the sand, eyes distant and dark.

"So why do you stay?" Wade wonders. "I'm sure you could find something, you always seem to land on your feet no matter where you're at. Be it boxing, basketball, or wrestling."

Heath's lips twitch a little at Wade remembering his past sport endeavors, hand pausing in the sand. "It was my dream," he says slowly. "Bein' in the WWE, bein' a wrestler. It's just rough sometimes. Not winnin' is one thing, I'm kinda used to that, but it's the... not bein' used thing. I just wanna entertain people, y'know? Annoyin' people, makin' 'em laugh, or whatever. I guess I just miss it."

Wade nods, not really getting it, but trying to. He was there to win, to be champion, and Heath's aim with his career is so vastly different that he can't really envision it sometimes. But Heath had always been different, that's why he assumes he and Heath somehow just... work. They're both competitive, but in extremely opposite ways. Heath's there to have fun, maybe win here and there, but that's just an added bonus to his career. Reaching up with his good hand, he grips Heath's shoulder and drags him down. "We both know about how wrestling has its peaks and valleys," he murmurs into Heath's hair. "You're ridiculously patient for all of your hyper-ness, so... are you going to be patient a little longer, or let it go? Move on? Do something else?"

Heath yawns, nuzzling into Wade's warmth and shakes his head after a few minutes of thought. "Doubt it," he mumbles. "Even without Jinder and Drew, it's like home, y'know? A dysfunctional, but comfortable... kinda home. Besides, you'll be back sooner rather than later. Who'd I have to tease if I left?" He rests his hands on Wade's chest and smirks up at him as he rolls his eyes in reaction.

Whatever response Wade wants to make is muffled when Heath leans in and kisses him, running his fingers through his dark hair. "You are ridiculous," he finally settles for once Heath pulls away, grin surefire and smug. When Heath leans in and trails more kisses along his lips and cheeks, Wade sighs, hand warm against Heath's lower back. "So you're staying?"

"I guess I am," Heath concedes.

"Do you give a damn?" Wade prods after a moment, hating to distract him from the trail he's making down his throat, but wanting to know. Being unable to make sense of a Heath only there to have fun competing more so than actually winning is one thing, but having one that has lost his ability to _care, _well, that's something truly unfathomable to Wade.

"Yeah," Heath sighs out. "Course I do. Even when it's hard. I care." Their eyes are locked and Wade nods, his throat dry at the layers of meaning in that simple, quiet statement. Eyes softening, Heath gets up and brushes his hands off before reaching out for Wade. "C'mon, let's go inside, eh?" Between the two of them, they get Wade back up and walk to the apartment, Heath leaning against Wade's side as he wraps an arm around him. "Thanks, Brit."

Wade smiles and presses a quick kiss to the top of Heath's head. "You're welcome, ginger."


	32. Defenseless

Wade closes his eyes, reflecting on the last few days. The news isn't good- of course. He will need surgery, and has already given up the title, despite how ill it had made him feel when the belt had left his grip. WWE, in the meanwhile, will be holding a battle royal at the next PPV to determine who will be champion. _Interim champion,_ he tells himself. _Until I'm back and can reclaim what's mine._

Heath's dozing next to him, eyes fluttering now and again in the July heat. "Feels like we've been here before, huh?" he sniffs at one point, pressing a lazy kiss to Wade's good shoulder.

"Hm," Wade mumbles, remembering the last time. When they'd barely been _something,_ before Heath had wore him down to make this a thing. He honestly can't imagine going through something like this again without Heath's warmth against his side and Boodah's soft snuffling on the floor next to the bed. "Are we going to have another DVD marathon this time?" he wonders with a soft smirk.

"If ya want," Heath sighs. "There's a couple'a years of flicks we gotta get caught up on after all."

Wade groans. "Why do I encourage you?" But they fall silent now, Heath aware that Wade needs rest. His surgery will be in the morning, and Heath will be by his side, as always, keeping up with everything that's going on, making sure WWE's staff is well-informed of whatever may arise from it all. These thoughts pingponging around in his skull, he closes his eyes, tightens his grip on Heath's side and falls into an unsettled asleep.

He's not well rested the next morning, but Heath has enough bustle for the both of them, getting him juice and water- promising him as much coffee as he wants once he's out of surgery and the doctor says it's ok- setting out Wade's clothes before changing into his own and helping Wade into his shirt and jeans, tying his sneakers for him. "Everything feel alright?" he asks, putting Wade's sling around his bad arm and making sure it's secure, but not too tight to be uncomfortable.

"Yes. Thank you." He gets himself up and walking and before either of them are really ready for it, they find themselves at the hospital, Wade settling on a cot and Heath getting walked back to the OR waiting room, where he's an expert by now with the phone and everything else going on. He drifts for awhile, watching the news channel droning on on the TV over his head, getting up every time the phone rings and calling out the names he hears until he hears Barrett. "Yep, that's mine," he says without hesitation.

"Mr. Barrett's surgery is complete, we'll be moving him to recovery shortly, and then a nurse will come and bring you back to sit with him."

"Thank you," Heath says, relieved that it's over and done with. A little more sitting and he finds himself walking down long hallways after a nurse until he's sitting next to Wade once more, fingers playing with his hand as he slowly comes to, blinking groggily. "Hey, Brit," he whispers. "Ya did good, man. All's repaired now, so ya just rest, and we'll be back home 'fore ya know it."

Wade hums sleepily before reaching out for Heath, his boyfriend leaning in to hear him when he starts to mumble sleepily. "Get in that battle royal, ginger. And eliminate someone for me... say..." His voice starts to slur as exhaustion overwhelms him again.

"Sure, anyone you want," Heath whispers when Wade drifts off, blinking when Wade jerks awake a few minutes later.

"Elim'ate Cesaro," he says, staring up at Heath like the interruption to their prior conversation hadn't happened. "Alright? Cesaro. Don't forget."

Heath laughs affectionately, carefully kissing Wade. "Sure, I'll eliminate Cesaro for ya. Don't worry about a thing." He doubts he'll even get close to that match, but thankfully Wade's so out of it from the drugs and surgery, he figures this conversation won't even be remembered. "Just another thing for us to laugh at later, when it doesn't suck so much, huh?" he wonders softly, stroking Wade's hand once more while watching him sleep.


	33. Gator

"Brit, c'mon-"

"No, ginger, _you_ come on," Wade retorts, maneuvering around the apartment carefully as he watches Heath put their laundry away. "I'm mostly off of the pain killers by now, I finish the antibiotics tomorrow, you can easily go back on the road with the WWE, and I can take care of myself for a few days here and there."

Heath shakes his head, orange hair going every which way as he folds Wade's shirts and puts them in one side of the drawer, stacking up his own on the other. "Aw c'mon, it sounds like you just wanna get rid of me. I ain't been that bad, have I? Been good to ya, getting ya food and lettin' you get first crack at the movies we watch... hell, I even kept Boodah outta the bedroom at night so ya could sleep in peace."

Wade sighs and wraps his good arm around Heath from behind, pressing him flush against his chest. "You've been fine, as I knew you would be. We've been down this road before, if I remember correctly." He pinches Heath's side and chuckles as the ginger jerks, the pain stabbing up his arm in response almost worth it as Heath turns and glares up at him. "But you can't put your career on hold forever, not just to nurse me back to 100%... which I can do fine for a little bit now that I'm not going to be as groggy. And your silly Boodah mutt over there will keep an eye on me, I'm sure."

The black dog makes a huffing, whimpering sound as he eyes them from where he's sacked out on the floor, and Heath releases a breath. "What exactly've I got to go back for, though? 3MB's gone, I'm barely on TV as it is. At least here I gotta purpose." He steps back and lightly pats Wade on his good arm before turning back to the laundry.

Wade rolls his eyes at the back of Heath's head before trying again, pulling him away from the laundry and pushing him onto the bed, standing between his legs so he can't get up. Ignoring his blustering complaints, he leans in, careful not to topple over since his balance isn't the best with one arm in a sling. "You're going back to Raw this coming week, and you're going to find yourself a partner or _something_ to do, and Boodah and I will be fine on our own until you come home to us. Understand?"

Heath closes his eyes with a soft groan. "It really means that much to ya, huh?" Wade doesn't move, clearly waiting for a satisfactory answer, and Heath sighs out most of the breath in his body. "Fine. Understood."

Nodding sharply, Wade steps back and lets Heath get back to work on the last few shirts and pants waiting in the laundry basket. As soon as this is done and the basket is stuffed back in the closet to wait for the next trip out to do laundry, Wade cups his face with his good hand and guides him up, slowly kissing him.

Heath looks a little dazed, lips twitching up into a smile when Wade lets him go. "Thanks," he mumbles, reluctantly accepting that his returning is for the best. Wade nods in response and leans in for another, lengthier kiss.

-x

Boodah is sitting at Wade's feet, chewing at random pieces of turkey that Wade's tossed him from his own supper, when his phone beeps to alert him of a text. It's from Heath, and he comes very close to dropping his sandwich when he reads it.

_I guess I'm partnerin' up with Titus O'Neil for a little while. Think we should be named somethin' like Slater Gator. What d'ya think?_

Wade moves slowly as he puts his sandwich down and claps his good hand over his face, ignoring Boodah's worried whine. "What the bloody hell have I _done?_"


	34. Hand Off

"I handed the bloody thing over to them already," Wade snaps into the phone, sprawled out on the bed and ignoring Boodah's fussing from the floor. "Now they expect me to be a part of some asinine ceremony at this bloody battle royal, awarding _my_ belt to the so-called winner, because I haven't been humiliated enough..."

Heath stares up at the ceiling of the hotel he's in, wishing he was back at the apartment to try to make this better for him in person. "I know, it sucks," he says quietly. "But hell, who knows, maybe a miracle'll happen and it's me you're awardin' it to... that'd be better than some other options, yeah?" He speaks hesitantly, as if expecting an elbow to the face- or more than likely, a kick to the jaw, once they're both in the same room once more.

"I suppose," he mumbles, but there's no venom in his voice so Heath relaxes a little. "At least I have _some_ reason to watch this bloody waste of time match."

Heath's lips twitch up into a smile before he shifts over, hugging his pillow and staring out of the window at the world racing by outside. "S'pose so," he agrees softly, settling in to maybe get some sleep should Wade be able to relax soon. He'd just gotten back from Smackdown, relieved to have a few hours to sleep before needing to travel on for the next event, but it'd been clear Wade needed him, so. Here they are. "I'll try to make you proud."

He assumes Wade hasn't remembered making him promise to eliminate Cesaro, which is a relief, but he keeps it in the back of his mind, hoping that maybe he could do _something_ along those lines to cheer Wade up. The thought of Wade being backstage, watching Heath in this match in person, raises the hairs on the back of Heath's neck. Knowing he's watching on TV from Florida is one thing, but to actually _be_ there...

"I know you will," Wade says quietly. "Honestly, ginger, the fact that you've never given up, no matter how badly things have gotten... You _do_ make me proud, alright?" His chuckle is mirthless and leaves Heath feeling sad. "While I'm sitting here injured time and again, you make the most of the time you're given. It might not be a lot, but it's still impressive the things you do with the few opportunities management gives you. Don't forget that, alright? No matter what anyone else thinks, I respect you."

Heath hasn't heard _those_ words from anyone in a long damn time, and it almost feels like a punch to the solar plexus, but in all the right ways. "Thanks, Brit," he breathes out, tears beading in his dark eyes. "I really wish I was with you right now."

"I wish you were too," Wade sighs. "But soon, yes? I'll see you soon."

"Definitely. After Raw, I'll be home for a few days." Heath hesitates, hating having to say this. "But for now, I think we gotta get some sleep, y'know? And by we, I mean you too. No layin' awake, starin' at the ceiling. Close your eyes, and if you can't sleep, then text me."

"I will," Wade sighs, smiling a little at Heath's protectiveness. "Good night, ginger."

"G'night, Brit." Heath hangs up and waits, but after nearly half an hour's passed without a text, he finally gives in and closes his eyes, immediately dropping into sleep.

States away, Wade lays on his good side, finally falling asleep himself after staring at a picture Heath had taken of the both of them with his title belt held on his shoulder. _I'll get it back, one way or another, _is his last thought for the night.


	35. Bet On This

Heath sighs. It'd been a long week, made even more annoying by Wade's absence due to his injury. Slater Gator isn't making much progress, because Titus O'Neil refuses to seriously consider a tag team with him for some reason, and all in all, Heath doesn't have much hope for his chances in the battle royal this coming PPV. As soon as the plane he's on lands in Florida, he walks through the airport while checking his phone and swallows upon finding Wade's latest tweet on his timeline.

_ WadeBarrett_

_I'll be heading to #WWEBattleground to present the new IC-Champ with his title. My money's on HeathSlaterOMRB. #BringBackTheCorre_

Heath hisses out a shocked breath, rereading it and digesting the hashtag at the end. _The Corre... _something that had been trouble almost from the moment he and Justin had gone to Wade and convinced him to allign once more with them when the Nexus just became too toxic for them. But, as awful as the Corre had ended up being, it had led to Wade accepting his relationship with Heath for what it was instead of things between them falling apart as their careers went in different directions. Without the Corre, Heath doubts they'd be sharing an apartment, sharing their _lives_, like they are right now.

The mere fact that Wade believes in him enough to tweet something so very public... He has to sit down for a minute and fight the emotions flooding through him, hoping that no fan will be around with an all-too eager camera and inclination to take a picture of a man when he's about to breakdown crying in the middle of an airport. He shudders and sucks in one deep breath after another before the itchy feeling behind his eyes disappears, taking the tears with it.

Finally getting up, he makes his way to his waiting car and sinks into the driver's seat, sighing softly. "Home sweet home," he murmurs, driving towards the apartment. He's so tired that he almost forgets it's his birthday until he arrives home and, sidestepping Boodah's cold nose and skittering toes against the wood floor, heads into the kitchen to sit down and play with his dog after getting a bottle of water... where he finds a small strawberry cake waiting, _Happy Birthday Heath _scrawled on it in sensitive looking loops.

He gapes at it for a minute before shutting the door, kneeling down by Boodah. "Where's Wade, huh, boy?" The dog leans back on his haunches for a moment before trotting hurriedly to the bedroom, looking back a time or two to make sure Heath's following. By the time he gets inside, Boodah is laying next to the bed, Heath pausing to watch Wade sleep, enjoying the sound of his steady breathing.

Heath ducks back out and gets the cake, regretfully nudging Boodah out of the room before he shuts the door on him and approaches the bed, carefully setting the cake on the bedside table. "Hey, Brit," he whispers, kneeling next to Wade. Wade stirs but only fully awakens when Heath kisses him, smirking when Wade groans against his lips. "Thank you for the cake," he offers. "At least Boodah didn't eat half of it this year."

"Happy birthday, ginger," Wade murmurs sleepily, wrapping his good arm around Heath's waist and drawing him closer.

"It is now." Heath plucks a small piece of cake up and holds it to Wade's lips, grinning as he bites into it with a soft moan. "Taste good?" 

"Of course it does, I have exceptional taste."

"I know you do," Heath whispers, leaning in and kissing him again, tasting the sweet frosting on his lips. "So your money is on me, huh?"

"Always," he sighs.

"The Corre?" Heath prods, teasing Wade with another small square of cake.

"Just wanted to make you smile," Wade shrugs.

Heath hums, eating the cake himself before leaning over to get another piece of the dessert, this time giving it to Wade when he catches the glare on his former leader's face. He chuckles and kisses him softly, sighing. "Well, it worked," he admits. "I know bein' in the Corre was kinda rough for both of us, but it brought along some good things, yeah?"

"Yeah," Wade agrees after a moment. "Very good things." He rubs a hand up Heath's arm as he finishes off the last of the small cake. "Glad you're done with that, it sounds like that silly mutt of yours is trying to claw through the door again."

"Oh, he's fine," Heath sighs, smirking down at Wade before he gets up to let Boodah back in. Sprawling out next to Wade once more, he snuggles closer and kisses the side of Wade's mouth. "Thanks again, Brit."

"You're welcome." There's a pause. "Your dog is licking my fingers."

"Boodah! Stop eating the frostin', you goofy dog," Heath scolds, unable to stop grinning despite his tone as Wade chuckles at the two ridiculous creatures who'd taken up residence in his life. _Questionable start,_ he thinks, settling back down against Wade once Boodah calms, _but still a damn good birthday all in all._


	36. Worry

Heath is focused on getting lunch together, Boodah bounding around at his heels and Wade talking lowly behind him, enough noise going on that it takes him a minute to realize what Wade's saying. "Wait, huh?" he asks, hands digging around in hamburger meat as he forms the perfectly sized burgers for them. "What'd you say?" His dark eyes rest on Wade after he drops each burger onto the huge skillet and turns the heat on.

"I was saying," Wade says calmly, "that probably the only good thing about my injury is getting to see how utterly pissed off Cesaro is that you're going to eliminate him this Sunday. I mean, it's bloody brilliant. If I keep rubbing it in, he more than likely will block me on social media." He grins sharply, seemingly unaware of the look on Heath's face as he continues to talk about it.

Heath grimaces and turns back to the burgers, flipping them until they're just how Wade likes them, not burnt but not entirely bloody either. As soon as he feels they're cooked enough, he takes them off of the flame and throws them onto a couple of buns, placing the plate by Wade. They work silently side by side, Heath helping him to put on enough condiments and vegetables that the meat itself is barely visible. "There ya go, Brit. I... gotta get some air."

Wade's eyebrows raise, having already taken his first bite so he can't respond, watching with a grimace as Heath grabs Boodah's collar and leaves through the back door. "What the-?" he demands after finally swallowing that massive bite. "Ginger," he mumbles, conflicted as he stares at the food.

When Wade finds him, Heath is sitting down the beach, the waves licking at his toes while Boodah races around, nipping and snarling at snails and other little creatures scattered around the sand. Wade grunts, wondering what's going on with Heath that he has to keep chasing him like this, awkwardly sitting down and only being saved from falling over by Heath's steadying grip. "What's going on, ginger?"

Heath just sits there for the longest time, staring out over the horizon, before he sighs. "I don't wanna disappoint you," he mumbles. "You're so sure I'm gonna eliminate Cesaro and win the battle royal but... what if I don't? What if it's just another match for me and I lose?"

Wade stares at his profile, lit by the sun, and thinks of all this business has taken from him. Tag partners, friends, chipping away at his self-esteem bit by bit with each failure. He nudges Heath and tilts his face up with his good hand. "No matter what happens," Wade tells him, "I'm going to be proud of you. I know you try your hardest. It's not easy, especially in multi-man matches and you have nothing to regret, even if you don't eliminate Cesaro. I won't hold it against you."

"Really?" Heath sighs, leaning into his touch.

"Yes, really. Bloody hell, Heath, it's just been amusing to me to torment Cesaro like this. You succeeding, yes, I'd like to see that happen, but if you don't, it won't change how I feel about you." He leans in and lightly kisses Heath, smiling when the last bit of tension leaves him. "I didn't mean to make you feel worse about this weekend. Just put everything I've said out of your mind and do your best, like I know you will." Running his thumb over Heath's lips, he smiles.

"Alright, I will," Heath sighs. "C'mon, man, let's go back inside, your food's gettin' cold." Helping Wade back up, they walk side by side back to the kitchen and, as Wade eats, Heath prepares his own burgers and feeds Boodah, things slowly returning to normal.

Once Heath sits down and starts piling on his own burger toppings, Wade pokes him with the toes of his shoe. "What do you say, if you're really nervous about this weekend, we strategize about what you can do? How about that?"

Heath hesitates with ketchup in hand and looks up at him, smiling. "Ya mean I get first-hand advice from the former champ himself? How can I pass that up?" Scooting his chair closer, he smiles at Wade. "Go on then."

Wade ghosts his hand against the table, going from person to person in the match and describes what he feels is Heath's best bet at exploiting each of their weaknesses. As Heath listens, Wade watches his eyes light up in inspiration.

Once they're finished going through it all a couple of times and Wade has returned to eating, Heath releases a breath, still weighing all of his suggestions. "I love ya, Brit."

Wade's eyes are deep and dark blue as he looks back at Heath, lips twitching into a smile. "I love you too."


	37. Partial Prediction

It happens in a rush. Heath is struggling to survive in the battle royal one moment, the next he's realizing the opportunity is there- no one's close enough to stop him, he lunges forward and the next thing he knows, he's throwing Cesaro over the top rope. He'd _done_ it, he'd found a moment, went for it, and had done the one thing Wade had been practically begging him to do for weeks, since his surgery. So many thoughts are running through his mind as he looks down into Cesaro's plumbstruck eyes, strumming his air guitar viciously at the man, before remembering that there's a match going on behind him, that he could still _win_ this thing... but when he turns around, it's to be met by Sheamus.

He tries to fight, tries to hold on, even sends Sheamus against the ropes back into the ring, but before he could recover enough to re-enter the ring himself, he's flattened by a Brogue Kick, landing hard on the mat outside. He lays there, staring up at the lights for a moment, before the ref starts lecturing him. He gets up and trudges unhappily backstage, aware that Wade is somewhere, waiting to hand off his title to the winner. Which isn't him. He grimaces as Miz's music hits and goes outside in his gear, not even caring to wait around and change. He doesn't want to see Wade's face as he hands over the belt, he doesn't want to be around for any of this.

Heath hadn't held out much hope of winning, of course not, but to be so close... to be the one to throw Cesaro over, to feel that rush of _Maybe... Maybe..._ just to have it all stolen away a moment later, well... He closes his eyes and buries his face in his arms, breathing heavily as he sinks down to the ground outside. It's a warm July but the ground is cool so he stays there, not even caring about how scraped up his back is becoming against the brick wall. Hugging his knees to his chest, he barely hears the door open behind him, but does feel the familiar presence.

Wade's hand rests against the top of his head, stroking through his sweaty hair. "I'm proud of you," he finally offers, voice low and gentle. More so than Heath's usually ever heard it.

"Why?" he mumbles. "I didn't do anythin'."

"You did plenty," Wade tells him. "You knew how badly I wanted Cesaro kicked out, and you saw it through. I'm sorry if you're disappointed that you didn't win, but I'm not disappointed in you at all. I mean it: I'm proud of you, ginger."

Heath exhales painfully before getting to his feet and meeting Wade's eyes, desperation bleeding out of his own. "Say that again."

Wade cups his face with his good hand, leans in so they're almost close enough to kiss but not quite. "I'm _proud_ of you, ginger. Always have been, always will be."

Heath swallows, sniffs. Then nods. There's a sincerity in Wade's eyes that floors him, leaves him struggling even as he wants nothing more than to embrace it, accept it at face value. He's just not sure he deserves it. "Thanks," he chokes out finally, Wade leaning in and kissing him slowly, softly. "Love ya, Brit," he whispers, fingers tangling into the collar of Wade's shirt.

"Love you too," Wade says, lips twitching up into a smile as he hugs him.


	38. Twice

WWE's touring through Florida this week. Neither Heath or Wade can find much to complain about when it comes to Heath getting to sleep in in his own bed, and only having to drive a couple hours to get to work, instead of going through the hassle of catching a flight and everything, and even getting to come home that night.

And it is going great... until Wade realizes that Flo Rida is at the show. "Oh no," he mumbles, staring at the TV screen. Boodah whines at him and Wade exhales. "Well, your owner might be getting in trouble later on tonight." Boodah hops onto the couch and stares at him sadly, Wade grimacing and scratching his forehead. "I know, boy. I know."

They watch quietly until everything Heath gained at the PPV fades away after one exchange with Flo Rida, Heath pushing him just to get pushed down hard to the ground. There's nothing that can be done afterwards, Heath watching on in humiliation as Flo Rida leaves to prepare his performance. Titus, of course, is no help.

Wade sighs and pets Boodah. "Guess we called it," he sighs, standing up. He chooses to listen to the rest of the show from the kitchen, heating up some leftovers of steak, mashed potatoes and this weird mixed vegetable medley that Wade hadn't expected to like as much as he did that Heath had served up for him before he'd gone. As Wade sits down to eat at the table, Boodah sniffs around at his feet, whimpering curiously, and Wade rolls his eyes, holding some pieces of steak out to him. Boodah eats happily and Wade wipes his fingers off with some distaste before returning to his own meal. "I would've never fed a mutt like this before I met Heath," he mumbles. "That ginger has brought about some disgusting, American changes to my British sensibilities..."

Once Raw ends, Wade gets up from the table, turns the TV off and heads to bed. He's dozing when the door opens, Heath lightly toeing his shoes off and leaving his jeans over the rungs of the chair across the room before slipping into bed. Wade hums and turns, wrapping an arm around him while Heath snuggles closer. "Well, that sucked," he mumbles, eyes closed.

"A bit," Wade murmurs.

"So much for actually keeping my momentum going," he sighs. Wade squeezes him tighter and listens as Heath breathes in and out raggedly. "I should've been able to lay waste to Flo Rida, I mean hell. I lasted so long in that Battle Royal, but then..."

Wade exhales. "It's probably just as well that you didn't, ginger. He would've gone running to the police if you'd even scratched him." Heath chuckles and Wade rubs up and down his back, helping him to relax even more. "I'd rather not have to bail you out, though it would be convenient that you're in the state at least."

"Haha," Heath says dryly before leaning in and kissing him. "So how was the food I left for you?"

"Fine," he says. "Your mutt ate half of it though."

Heath rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. You mean you fed him a few bites and then wondered where you went wrong with your life."

Wade makes a face at him before rolling his eyes. "How do you know me so well?"

"Because I know you like my dog more than you let on," Heath chuckles, settling in and relaxing against Wade. "Just like I knew you liked me more than you let on."

Wade grimaces and pinches his hip lightly. "Bloody git," he says fondly. "G'night, ginger."

"G'night, Brit."

Wade waits and watches until Heath's fast asleep, his breathing steady and soft, before allowing himself to fall back asleep as well, a small smile on his face.


	39. Second Tries

After Titus' constant refusals to tag with him, and Heath getting punked out by Flo Rida, he's understandably glum whenever Wade talks to him on the phone. Once Heath's home, this means Titus is home too and they only live a few blocks away from each other, so Wade decides to take Boodah for a walk while Heath prepares lunch. Heath leans away from the bowl of meat he's mixing together to kiss Wade before he slips out of the back door, offering him a weak sort of smile as he goes, Boodah bounding around his feet. "Boodah, be good, boy," Heath orders the dog, who immediately calms and gives Wade a little more leeway in getting out of the door without injury.

They've walked out of sight of the apartment complex before Wade changes direction and leads Boodah down the street that leads towards Titus' address. His sons are running around outside and stop short when they see Wade, looking back and forth from Boodah to Wade, eyes wide. Wade swallows, not comfortable around kids, especially ones who stare like this. "Is your father home?" he asks briskly. "Titus? I work with him."

One of the kids run off, leaving the other to stare quietly and Wade fights not to facepalm. He never thought he'd feel like this, but it's a relief when Titus comes out, the two boys finally running off as he approaches Wade. "What's going on, Barrett?" he wonders, staring curiously at Boodah. The dog hops forward, panting and licking at him happily. Titus sighs and pets him, rolling his eyes. "You're as obnoxious as your owner," he mumbles.

"That's why I'm here," Wade says, staring at Titus. "He's bloody miserable after the Flo Rida nonsense this week. I'm aware that he's not the easiest to get along with at first, but I think you should give him another chance."

Titus grimaces at him. "You live with him, for whatever reason. You really expect me to trust him to be a worthwhile partner that I can win with? I didn't break up with Darren Young just to level down like that."

Wade rolls his eyes back at him. "You are aware he's been tag champions three times, right? It's where he's at his best, usually. With the right partner. But if you think that you'll hold him back, I suppose I can help him find someone better easily enough." It's an obvious pride ploy and, amazingly enough, it works as Titus glares at him, roughly patting Boodah before standing up at his full height.

"Fine I'll give him another chance. He'd better not screw it up." Titus turns and yells at his sons that it's time for lunch before heading back inside.

Wade smirks and turns Boodah back towards the apartment, now hungry as well.

The next time Heath and Titus team up, they lose again and it's clear that Titus isn't happy. "I'm doin' my best here, man. It takes time for teams to gel, y'know?!" Heath exclaims, obviously in pain as they walk up the ramp.

"I know plenty about teams gelling," Titus snaps. "We should've started to by _now._ I knew I shouldn't have listened to that stupid British boyfriend of yours..."

Heath freezes just past the curtain and stares at him. "What? Wade told you to team with me again?"

"Yes! I'm regretting it more and more." Titus glowers at him, storming off.

Heath blinks. "Huh..." He needs to work some more at convincing Titus to team with him _again,_ but right now he just wants to talk to Wade. Ducking into a side room, he pulls his cell phone out and calls him.

"Hey, ginger," Wade says. "Better luck next time."

"Thanks," he sighs. "So I heard through the grapevine someone was doin' a little convincin' on my behalf to keep my tag partner from runnin' off. Considerin' I thought Titus was gonna bail and go back to wrestlin' singles, I guess I owe ya one, Brit."

"Boodah did most of the talking," Wade sniffs dismissively. Heath laughs at this and Wade smirks. "Don't worry about it, ginger. I just wanted you to stop moping around the apartment."

Heath rolls his eyes. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"Worse," Wade says with a sneer. "Anyway, I'm glad O'Neil listened. I would've had to give him some bad news, otherwise."

Heath chuckles, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll talk to you later, Brit. I gotta go shower'n'get out of here before Titus completely loses his temper."

"Alright. Talk to you later."

"Bye." Heath hesitates for a moment to listen to Wade's breathing, not really wanting to disconnect the call, before finally hitting the end button and heading out to find Titus.


	40. Winning

Heath can't stop grinning. "We've won two matches in a row!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around Titus, who quickly shrugs him off.

"What the hell is happening?" he mumbles, watching the replay with some awe. "I mean, damn. It's just Superstars and Main Event, but still." He looks over at the ridiculously excited man next to him and shakes his head. "This could really become something? Maybe?"

"See, I told you you'd start to like me!" Heath crows, trying again for a hug but getting stopped short when Titus presses a hand to his face and pushes him away.

"I don't like you, I like winning," Titus mumbles, still looking flummoxed by it all.

Still, Heath is thrilled when he returns home and hugs Boodah as the large dog leaps up to greet him, panting happily. "I think Titus is finally acceptin' me as his partner, boy," he says to the dog, grinning down at him. "Took long enough but I knew I'd win 'im over with enough time." He rubs Boodah's stomach before the dog rolls away and runs off, Heath looking up to find Wade leaning against the nearby doorway. "Hey."

"Hey." Wade waits as Heath gets up and dusts the dog fur off of his hands before drifting towards him, smirking as Heath kisses him lazily. "Have a good week?"

"Mm, and it just keeps gettin' better," Heath muses, kissing Wade once more before pulling away and gripping Wade's good hand, leading him into the living room. As they settle down onto the couch, Heath wrapping Wade's arm around him, Heath props his feet up on the table and sighs. "Did I say thank you for talkin' to Titus for me?"

"Yeah, you did," Wade murmurs, squeezing him tighter.

"Did you see that video I sent you of our titanton?" Heath wonders after a few moments, playing with Wade's fingers. Nothing is said for a few moments and Heath looks back just to find Wade struggling to keep a straight face, Heath smirking as Wade loses the fight, his chuckles vibrating against Heath's back.

"It's so bloody ridiculous," he chortles. "Let me guess you were the mastermind of it?"

Heath makes a face at him before settling back against Wade's chest, curling his fingers around his palm. "So what if I was?" he asks, resting his head against Wade's shoulder. "I'm not sure if they're gonna use it, but maybe if Slater Gator remains a thing long enough."

"I don't see why you wouldn't. Especially now that you're on a winning streak," Wade muses, pressing his cheek against Heath's head. "It would be pointless, even for Titus, to break up something that's working."

Heath smiles and lifts Wade's hand, kissing his palm in a way that he knows tickles him. He chuckles as Wade squirms underneath him, rubbing his stubbly jaw against the sensitive flesh once more.

"I'm going to take it all back if you don't cut that out," Wade rumbles, fighting not to respond to the sensations once more. "Ginger, I swear-"

Heath finally eases off of him and tilts his head to kiss Wade. "You wouldn't do that," he murmurs, eyes gleaming as Wade huffs and kisses back, squeezing Heath's side.

"Hmph," Wade huffs. "Well, I suppose you can't be wrong _all_ the time."

Heath grins up at him before settling back against his chest, warm and happy with pretty much every aspect of his life right now.


	41. Streak

Slater Gator have officially won four matches in a row now. Heath stares at the online list and shakes his head, lips twitching up into a soft smile. "Who knew bein' partnered up with Titus would actually get me somewhere," he sighs, shouldering his bag and leaving the airport with a spring to his step that hasn't been there for awhile.

Even waving down a taxi and directing the driver to his apartment isn't enough to erase some of Heath's happiness, his eyes shining as he watches the streets go by. He's on a _winning streak!_ All but humming as he gets out of the car and pays for the transportation, Heath walks up to the door and opens it, immediately tackled by Boodah. He laughs and leans in to pet and play with Boodah, just starting to wonder where Wade's at when he hears his footsteps. Looking up, he beams at the taller man as he leans against the doorway and stares at them. "So."

"So. You have four wins in a row, huh?"

Heath's eyes gleam. "You've been countin', huh?" He pets Boodah a couple times more before standing up and throwing his arms around Wade's neck. "This is all thanks to you, Titus wouldn't have given me a chance otherwise. Thanks." Kissing him, he gasps and squirms as Wade tickles his sides, burying his face in Wade's chest. "Stop that," he mumbles off of a laugh, shifting away and starting to walk past him to unpack. He's barely made it halfway down the hall when Wade hooks an arm around his waist, stopping him.

"Hang on, I've got something for you," Wade mumbles. "You can unpack later." Leading him into the kitchen, Wade smirks as Heath gapes at the table. "Cheat day," Wade explains, pulling him over to where single slices of cake and small containers of ice cream is waiting for them. "I put these out when I heard you coming so the ice cream should be softened like you prefer."

Heath beams, staring at the cinnamon swirl ice cream. "Thanks, Brit," he says. "Celebration for Slater Gator's winning streak, huh?"

"Yes," Wade agrees. "I might have invited Titus O'Neil as well but I didn't want to listen to him belittling you." Heath looks surprised by this and Wade smirks, messing with Heath's bright hair. "That's my job." He winks as Heath huffs, then chuckles, grabbing Wade's hand and kissing his palm in the way he knows drives him nuts the most. "Stop that or I'll eat your ice cream too," he mumbles, wiggling his fingers until Heath releases him with a chuckle. "I'm happy this is working out for you," he says once they're halfway through the mid-day treat.

"Thanks, me too," Heath says quietly, collecting a few crumbs of cake before looking up with a smile. "Either way, I know I'll be ok even if it all ends tomorrow... 'cause I've got the best dog in the world waitin' for me when I get home." The silence that follows this is merciless and Heath finally dares to catch Wade's eye, cracking up with laughter at the pure anger in his eyes. "And, the absolutely best boyfriend in the world," he adds on, leaning over and kissing Wade softly.

"That's a little better," Wade says off of an eyeroll, taking another bite of his ice cream. His lips twitch into a small smile when Heath catches his hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles. "I love you," he says quietly.

"I love you too," Heath responds, beaming at him.


	42. Age

_ WadeBarrett_

_Thanks for the messages, feels great to experience yet another 29th birthday. #TerminalYoungThing_

Heath stares at his phone from where he's laying on the sand, relieved that Wade's birthday fell on a Sunday so he could spend the day with him before flying out for Raw. He sits up and watches as Wade chases Boodah around, throwing sticks at him and trying to get him to chase go into the water. Heath rolls his eyes with a small laugh, finally getting up and dusting some of the sand off of his hands and knees as he walks over to spare his dog from Wade's relentless teasing. Hugging Boodah around the neck, he smirks up at Wade. "I know you're a young thing, but ya gotta bug the poor dog like this?" he teases, running his fingers through Boodah's furry nape.

Wade huffs before tossing the stick once more, looking disappointed when Boodah doesn't respond while Heath's hanging off of him like that. "Let the dog play, ginger. It's not hurting him any. Besides, it's good rehab for me."

Sufficiently guilt tripped, Heath lets Boodah go and huffs at Wade, kneeling back on his heels in the sand. "Ya know if you're perpetually 29, I'm older than you."

Wade stops short at this, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe physically," he accepts, laughing as Heath tosses sand at his legs.

"Jerk," Heath mumbles, sprawling out in the sand and watching Boodah run around with the stick in his mouth, looking perfectly happy. Heath doesn't move when Wade drops down next to him, wrapping an arm loosely around his midsection. "Either way, you look pretty good for a 29 year old," he mumbles.

Wade chuckles and leans in, kissing his jaw. "And you look good for an old man."

"If you weren't rehabbing, I swear I'd slap ya," Heath grunts, sinking back against the sand and yawning as the sun beats down against them, leaving him sleepy and comfortable with Wade pressed close.

"And I'd probably deserve it," Wade concedes, running his fingertips along Heath's ribs with a chuckle.

They'd ate ice cream and cake earlier in the week to celebrate Heath's success so far with Slater Gator so, come today, they'd opted to go for a nice long swim and to play with Boodah until all of them are exhausted before indulging in more treats, neither exactly wanting to fall into bad habits with their nutrition. As if reading their mind, Boodah runs back up to them and drops the stick by Heath's head, panting as he lays down next to Wade.

"Crazy mutt," Wade mumbles even as he skritches Boodah between the ears.

"You know you love him," Heath says, his eyes closed.

"I suppose I have weird taste because I feel the same way towards his owner," Wade shrugs, peeking over at Heath as he smirks, flushing slightly. "I've always wanted a sugar daddy."

Heath laughs deeply at this, rolling over and cupping Wade's face, kissing him. "Does this make you a kept man or somethin'?"

"...Yes," Wade says after a moment's thought, taking in the considering look crossing Heath's eyes. He smirks and swallows Heath's sigh as he leans in and kisses him hard.

"Well, then, happy birthday to you," Heath murmurs with a grin as bright as the sun overhead.


	43. Count Out

A win. By count out, sure, but still another under Heath's belt. He's sweaty and sore as he stumbles backstage, running his fingers through his hair. He sighs and changes clothes quickly, only stopping long enough to talk to Titus, who _almost_ looks impressed that Heath had won at all. "See ya around," he finally says, half-waving at his tag partner before bailing. They hadn't quite gotten to the point of rooming together, Titus still barely just tolerating him, so Heath doesn't push it. It's kind of nice to have a room to himself anyway, especially when he wants to be loud and happy and not feel obligated to be quiet when Titus is trying to sleep.

As soon as his hotel door slams shut behind him, he's slipping into the shower again, washing the sweat caused by August humidity from his skin and hair, closing his eyes as some of the soreness eases from his muscles as well. "Hm," he yawns, pressing a hand against the cool tiles and trying to hurry the process along, aware that he's not going to stay awake for much longer. Once he's feeling good, he slips out and sinks into the sheets, still drying his long hair. He's thinking about cutting it, a little, tugging at the strands, but...

His phone rings. He sighs and grabs for it, sinking into the pillows. "Hullo, Brit."

There's a pause on the other end and Wade chuckles. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Who else would be callin' me at this hour?" he teases. "Just got outta the shower. How're you'n'Boodah doin'?"

"Fine. The mutt's tired himself out chasing squirrels outside of the window again. Like he thinks I'm going to let him out of the apartment if he destroys enough of our things."

Heath smirks. "What did he do, drop a couple of cushions off of the couch again?"

"...One. I think," Wade mumbles, huffing as Heath laughs at him. "He's very disruptive."

"Oh please, he's a careful puppy," Heath scoffs at him. "I've trained him better than that, and he doesn't wanna make you mad so he tries to keep you happy when he's there."

"Well, he learned his lesson when he bit me that time, I suppose." 

"Oh c'mon, Brit, he hasn't done that in years," Heath yawns.

Wade wisely opts to let it go. "Well, anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you on winning again. Are you alright after that ZigZag?"

"Kinda sore, but nothin' major," Heath shrugs. "Can't keep me down, y'know. I can't believe I'm still on a winnin' streak, man. This is weird."

"Well, keep it up," Wade says, nudging Boodah with his foot. "Your mutt's proud of you."

"Is he the only one?" Heath smirks, eyes fluttering shut.

"... I am, as well," Wade admits after a moment of poking the lazy dog with his toes.

Heath's voice is weary but happy when he responds, "Thanks, Brit. I'd like to talk longer but I'm fallin' asleep sittin' up here, so, unless ya wanna talk me to sleep..."

"Fine," Wade says with a small chuckle. "I can do that, ginger."

"Thanks," Heath murmurs. "So tell me about rehab. How'd today go?" As Wade starts to tell him, he shifts the pillows around and settles in more comfortably, listening to the soft rumble of Wade's accent and slowly drifting off to some badly needed rest, a smile on his face.


	44. Tension

Despite they're being on a bit of a winning streak in singles and as a team, Heath and Titus still only just get along. Wade's getting used to hearing them argue while discussing strategy, thankfully things ordinarily don't get heated, but one day after Heath wins by countout against Ziggler, he's playing with Boodah outside when the bickering turns into scandalized yells, then something loud crashes and Boodah immediately loses interest in Wade, rushing into the apartment. "Shit," Wade mumbles, getting to his feet as quickly as he can and following the dog.

When they reach the kitchen, it's to find Heath down on his ass, teeth gritted as he struggles not to move. "Keep Boodah out of here!" he yells at Wade who starts to help Titus keeping the dog back.

"What did you do?" Wade demands of Titus, having no doubt that it's the man before him's fault, since Heath is down.

"He was getting on my nerves, I didn't think and just pushed him. He hit the counter and knocked a bunch of plates onto the floor and then slipped and hit the ground, breaking more of them."

Wade grits his teeth, anger welling up inside of him as he grips Boodah's collar and marches him through the apartment, shutting him up in the bedroom- and ignoring his whining and fussing- before returning to the kitchen. "Heath, are you hurt?"

"I don't think so, but I don't wanna move," he mumbles, staring down at the shards of Corelle around him. Wade understands this so he grabs a broom and slips inside, trying to sweep up what he can just to get to Heath without worrying about cutting himself or getting any shards stuck in his shoes. "Careful, careful," he chants, gripping Wade's hand and trying to get some traction as he helps to pull himself up.

There are shards up and down his pant legs, Wade gnawing at his tongue as he examines Heath's jeans. "Go take them off, I'll finish cleaning up in here. I'll be in to check in on you in a minute," he says, pushing Heath past Titus and continuing to sweep up. As he throws away dustpan after dustpan of broken dishes, he points his finger warningly at Heath's tag partner. "You owe us a new set of dishes. And never _ever_ lay hands on Heath in our house again, or you'll regret it. I will sicc that mutt on you, and then whatever he doesn't take care of, I'll finish off."

Titus nods tensely. "I'll buy you guys a gift card or something, you can select your own," he mumbles, already half out of the door, not eager to stick around after that threat.

Wade breathes a little easier once he's gone, tossing away another set of shards and sweeping over the floor once more to make sure it's clean before going to check on Heath. He's sitting morosely on the toilet, face in his hands and Wade kneels down in front of him, carefully checking the back of his legs. "Stand up," he says softly, examining Heath's thighs and hips to make sure he's not bleeding. Outside of a bruise forming where he'd fallen, Wade doesn't see anything too worrisome there. "Well, you look alright."

"Thanks," Heath mumbles once Wade's done examining him and urges him to sit back down. He watches grimly as Wade takes his jeans over to the tub and, plugging it, shakes the fabric out, trying to get the shards out of the denim. "Titus gone?"

"Yes," Wade says simply, running his fingers through the denim once more before throwing them in the clothes hamper. "Come on." Gripping Heath by the hand, he leads him into the bedroom and lets Boodah dash out into the rest of the apartment. "I cleaned the kitchen, he should be fine."

"Thank you," Heath says again, digging around in his closet. He pulls out sweatpants this time, putting them on.

Wade watches him quietly as Heath pulls the pants on and sits down next to him. "Did I make a mistake by forcing O'Neil to continue teaming with you? You're doing ok on your own, and now he's attacking you in your own home..."

"Nah," Heath yawns. "We'll be ok. It's not like none of us Nexus boys ever scrabbled." He rests his head on Wade's shoulder and hums. "Don't worry about it, I can take care of myself."

Wade grimaces. "But you don't need to," he explains, running his fingers through Heath's messy hair. "You've got me." He exhales as Heath smiles against his arm. "By the by, I've gotten O'Neil to agree to buy us new dishes."

Heath slips his fingers between Wade's and squeezes. "You're the best."

"I know."

Heath's laughter is warm and comforting. "I love you," he sighs.

"I love you too."


End file.
